How It Starts
by heavenhelpmyheart
Summary: "You've been texting Blaine Anderson?" Rachel asks, and thus begins the tale of Kurt's first failed romance. Luckily, the story isn't quite over.
1. Prologue

**A/N: There is a flaw in my writing! Okay, there are probably plenty of flaws in my writing. One of them I've focused on is that I'm very set in my ways: I always write third-person, near-omniscient, past tense. This is starting to bore me. SO, don't be discouraged by the prologue (below), this story will be mostly narrative, directly from Kurt to 'Rachel' (that's you). This was inspired by a random tumblr post which I can sadly not find again because I think it somehow died. Read on!**

* * *

"All right, what's on your mind?" Rachel demanded as Kurt stared blankly at the TV, off in his own little world. He was acting ridiculously distracted, constantly glancing at his phone and frowning for no apparent reason.

"There's nothing on my mind, Rachel. Don't you think Sutton Foster would have done this part wonderfully?" he asked, eating a piece of organic jalapeño popcorn and not looking away from the screen.

"Sutton Foster would do any part wonderfully, she's an icon. The point is: you're not paying any attention to our movie, and you haven't even asked me how things are with me and Finn!" she exclaimed.

"How are things with you and Finn?" Kurt asked her, not sounding particularly caring.

"Fine!" She couldn't tell Kurt that Finn had asked her to marry him. Finn had specifically requested that she didn't tell Kurt, even though it was killing her to keep such a big secret from her best friend.

"Good. Popcorn?" he asked, holding out the bowl, and she took a handful, still trying to figure out how to convince him to tell her what he was thinking.

"I was thinking that we could do _Reach_ for Regionals, the theme song from the 1996 Olympics. I think it would make a perfect ballad for me. Only me, center stage, belting out the song better than Gloria Estefan ever could."

"Sounds good," Kurt said absentmindedly.

"Really? I mean, I know I'm talented, but this is the first time that you've ever acknowledged I could be a Glee club all by myself."

"You blew Regionals away last year with a solo. It could be our signature, our powerhouse belting out a supporting song and then the rest of the Glee club joining with the song central to the theme. What is the theme this year anyway?"

"Mr. Schuester hasn't told us yet, but we're competing against the Warblers and the Golden Goblets. I think our best bet is my solo, my duet of _When You Believe_ with Mercedes, and me taking the lead vocals on a group song of _I Believe I Can Fly_."

"That doesn't sound like a very good catalog." This is the longest Kurt had ever let her talk about her ideas for Glee club, and his lack of objection to anything she was saying was starting to worry her. "Too similar."

"You would have no objections to me being the center of attention? Completely. No one else sharing my spotlight," she tried, knowing Kurt found her desire for applause to be one of her more annoying qualities.

"Why would I have an issue with that?" She seriously doubted Kurt was even listening to the entirety of her sentences at this point.

"Is there a boy?" That made Kurt's head snap around to look at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and she got the feeling he was playing innocent.

"There's a _boy_, that's the reason you're so distracted you don't even care that I could convince Mr. Schuester to give me all the solos at Regionals." Kurt snorted (he would insist that it was a 'sniff').

"As annoying as his blatant favoritism is, I doubt you could convince him... Rachel, there's no boy," he said, completely changing his train of thought.

"I don't believe you for a second," she said firmly.

"Okay, riddle me this," Kurt said, turning to face her. Both of them were ignoring the TV at this point. "If there was a boy, why would I be hiding him from you?"

"Do I know him?" she asked, ignoring Kurt's inaccurate hypothetical.

"There's no boy."

"Right. Is he in the closet? That would explain it."

"He's in the closet in the same sense that my imaginary friends from my childhood are: in that he doesn't exist." Kurt rolled his eyes, but Rachel wasn't convinced.

"So he _is_ in the closet. You can tell me, Kurt, I don't reveal secrets unless someone I care about is getting hurt in the process." Kurt still considered her untrustworthy because she had told Finn that Noah was the father of Quinn's baby, but Finn didn't deserve to be saddled with the burden of Quinn's mistake for the rest of his life.

"Rachel, _there's_ no boy."

"You will never convince me of that.

* * *

Rachel strutted down the hallway, plans to find out who the boy was in Kurt's life festering in her mind. Kurt deserved to be happy, everyone did, and Kurt would be happier if he had someone to gush about his love life to. That person being, of course, her.

"Nice bobby socks, Berry. They match your nose perfectly," a cold voice called out, followed by snickers. The voice was familiar to anyone who walked the hallways of McKinley, known for its vitriol and icy tone. "What exactly would you have had to do in a past life to deserve that horrible combination?" Everything the voice said was followed by snickers, and Rachel turned to face her attacker: Blaine Anderson. He was widely known as the school bitch, icier than Kurt and Quinn (who had both gotten the title of 'Ice Queen' briefly) combined, and the head cheerleader who controlled the school. It was a deadly combination.

"The things you do on a Friday night?" Santana asked, coming to stand beside Rachel. They were beginning to become friends, and Santana was getting better and better at standing up for the Glee girls, even against her fellow Cheerios. People started to laugh at Santana's comment, but were silenced by Blaine's fierce glance.

"So, for you, that would be the entire football team?" Blaine asked, prompting outbursts of laughter from the Cheerios beside him. "Except, that is," he continued, "for the ones that find you too repulsive to sleep with. I don't blame them." Blaine gave her an up-and-down that seemed to burn.

"And I'm sure they all prefer your virgin, homo ass, Anderson?" she asked coldly, prompting snickers from the male occupants of the hallway. Blaine didn't even have to look to silence them, his posse did that for him.

"You really want to talk about homos, Santana?" he asked, his low voice causing the hair on Rachel's arm to stand up. "Certainly, neither of us have room to talk about virgins, that's Berry's area." He didn't even glance at Rachel, who had started out as the focus of his attack.

"I definitely have room to talk about asses, especially your half-baked one," Santana replied, but she was shaking with anger. Blaine had that effect on people, and he seemed to enjoy it.

"Says the girl with silicone in her chest. How can we guarantee there isn't some anywhere else, Kim Kardashian?" Gasps and laughter followed Blaine's comment, and Santana seemed ready to punch him in the face. "Are you going to hit me, you barbarian?" he asked coolly. "You know I won't hit you back, so why not just take a swing? I'm sure you would enjoy it." Blaine was _baiting_ her, which was never a good idea.

Santana started yelling in Spanish, very few phrases of which were clean enough for Rachel to recognize, and Blaine responded with his own, smooth, calm flow of Spanish, which only seemed to make Santana angrier.

"That's exactly the kind of temper I expected from you," Blaine continued calmly once Santana had run out of angry Spanish. He hadn't even flinched in the face of her attack. "The same kind of temper which prompts you Gleeks to call our admirable athletes Neanderthals or plebeians. Maybe you should look in the mirror before you talk, Santana." Those were words Kurt used frequently to describe the jocks, and everyone knew it. He was insulting Kurt and the countertenor wasn't even there to defend himself!

"Let it go," Rachel said as she tried her best to drag Santana away, Blaine and his posse still laughing behind them. "He's not worth getting suspended with Regionals coming up. The Troubletones are performing a number, and they need your voice." Santana didn't say anything, pulling herself out of Rachel's grasp and stalking off in a manner eerily reminiscent of Miss Sylvester.

* * *

"I still think we should tell everyone," Rachel tried to convince her boyfriend during Glee practice on Monday, keeping one eye on Kurt. He was talking to Mercedes, occasionally taking out his phone and laughing at something he was reading on screen. Mercedes kept trying to peek over, but he would angle the phone so she couldn't see.

"Rachel, we just need to give them some time, all right? We'll tell everyone soon. I mean, Valentine's Day's coming up. Wouldn't that be super romantic?" Finn asked, trying to appease her, and she huffed.

"The more time they have to adjust to the idea, the better," she insisted, still watching as Mercedes tried to get Kurt's attention away from his phone.

"Rach, they'll all be fine with it. It's our decision anyway, right?" Finn asked and she huffed again. Sometimes Finn was such a _child_.

"Of course it's our decision, but we want their _support_. They're our _friends_, Finn, and the girls will be my bridesmaids." It was like he didn't think anything through.

Finn continued to try to convince her to lay off, but eventually she stopped listening to her immature, irresponsible boyfriend and continued to focus on Kurt, the way he giggled and smiled at things on his phone, Mercedes having given up on trying to talk to him. There was _definitely_ a boy.

* * *

"Give me your phone," Rachel demanded, striding up to him in a dramatic huff. The fact that his best friend was acting like a lunatic didn't even bother him. That happened everyday.

"Why?" he asked, continuing to put his books in his locker. The next thing he said was, "Jesus!" because Rachel unceremoniously stuck her hand in his pocket and grabbed his iPhone, unlocking it with the ease that only a best friend could have.

"I knew it!" she said victoriously. "I knew there was a boy." Kurt froze. Oh no. How did he explain this one? The stages of argument and the stages of grief were one and the same in his relationship with Rachel.

Stage one: denial. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"BA. I'm guessing you're not talking about a degree," Rachel said, waving his phone around, his texts back and forth with BA on display.

Stage two: anger. "What business is it of yours?" he snapped, trying to grab his phone, but Rachel was as dexterous as she was short. It was entirely unfair.

"How about I'm your best friend and I deserve to know about whoever it is that you're trying to hide from me?" she said, sticking the phone down her shirt so he wouldn't continue trying to reach for it.

Stage three: bargaining. "Look, Rachel, it's not a big deal. Just give me the phone back, we'll go about our day, and I'll let you talk about Finn as much as you want for the next twenty four hours without making any disparaging comments about my wonderful brother." Kurt loved Finn, but the more time he and Rachel spent not arguing, the worse they got around the rest of humanity. They were downright sickening at this point.

"Kurt..." Rachel said, a clear warning.

Stage four: depression. Kurt faked a heavy sigh. "I really don't want to talk about it, Rachel," he wheedled. "Things aren't exactly going well."

"I'm sure I'll have some adequate advice," she said firmly.

Stage five: acceptance. "It's Blaine Anderson," Kurt admitted. Rachel's jaw dropped.

"Cheerio Blaine Anderson? King of the school, more popular than the football players, and so vicious he's able to get the best of _Santana_, Blaine Anderson? The one person in this school who will _never_ be picked on for being gay, _Blaine Anderson_?" she asked, but at least she kept her tone hushed. Having this conversation with someone who had lungs as powerful as Rachel's could be potentially devastating.

"Yes, that Blaine Anderson," Kurt said patiently, as if there were another Blaine Anderson she could be thinking of.

"How did this happen?" Rachel hissed, dragging Kurt away from his locker and barely giving Kurt time to shut it. Kurt knew they were headed for the choir room, regardless of the fact that they had class. After all, it _was_ their senior year.

"Rachel, I _was_ a Cheerio. This really isn't that dramatic," Kurt said as Rachel pulled him into the choir room.

"Tell. Me. _Everything_," Rachel demanded, practically pushing him into a chair. Kurt knew very well that she wouldn't hesitate to sit on him until he told the story. Not that such a tactic would actually work, but it would certainly be annoying.

* * *

**A/N: And so it begins. Narrative starts next chapter. This story will be eleven chapters (including this one), with each chapter being four to five thousands words. I will update every week (probably on Sunday starting next week, Saturdays I'm just too forgetful), and the story is fully written. So, I hope you guys liked :)**

**Songs used/mentioned:  
**'_Reach_' by Gloria Estefan (mentioned)  
'_When You Believe_' by Mariah Carey & Whitney Houston (mentioned)  
'_I Believe I Can Fly_' by R Kelly (mentioned)

**Review are Love.**


	2. Blind Dates and Text Conversations

**Bold** are Blaine's texts, _Italics_ are Kurt's, for future reference.

* * *

Do you remember my friend Charlie? The only person I've ever met who's crazier than you? Pink faux-hawk, green nails, pride-flag nails? The one I met at Dalton when I spied there last year? Well, I went out for coffee with him after I didn't get the part of Tony because I wasn't masculine enough. I'm not still bitter, but I definitely was at the time.

"You know what you need?" he asked me, and I shrugged. "A pick me up."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Perhaps I was a little unnecessarily sarcastic, but it didn't even faze Charlie. Things rarely do.

"I don't mean like shopping with the girls, or coffee with the best person ever," he pointed to himself, "I mean like a _boy_ pick me up, and I have the perfect one picked out."

"Charlie, I have watched enough relationships crash and burn in the New Directions to honestly not care about romance, especially not in high school." Because seriously, you guys are the most ridiculous group of hormone-driven idiots I've ever met.

"Yeah, yeah, the Nude Erections has their issues, but I promise you this guy is absolutely perfect for you." Charlie always calls us the 'Nude Erections,' but he kind of has a point on how it sounds when it's said quickly. "He has a little bit of a past-"

"That doesn't sound promising," I interrupted.

"Kurt, he's an absolute sweetheart. Completely romantic, genuinely nice, incredibly smart, extremely talented, _ridiculously_ flexible," Charlie waggled his eyebrows and I could feel my face heating up. No matter what, something Charlie says always pertains to sex. It's the one thing I don't like about talking to him.

"Have you slept with him?" I asked suspiciously, because most of the gay guys Charlie knew, Charlie had slept with, and I _definitely_ didn't want Charlie's seconds.

"No," Charlie said, his tone sour. "Trust me, I _tried_, but like I said, he has some past."

"I would really feel more comfortable saying 'yes' to this if I knew something more about this mysterious 'past.'" I took a sip of my abnormally bitter coffee and tried to think of what Charlie (who has a bit of a 'past' himself) would think of as 'past.' The options were not looking good.

"But you are saying 'yes'?" Charlie was smirking at me. I knew it. I didn't even have to look at him, but I did anyway just to confirm. Yep.

"I am saying 'yes,'" I agreed. When I thought about it at the time, there was absolutely no harm in going on a date with a friend of Charlie's. Anyone who was willing to spend time with Charlie was probably out, pretty patient, and a good person. Charlie didn't put up with anything for long. Charlie was the best person I could think of to set me up on a date. How sad is that? Plus, even if I hadn't wanted to, Charlie would have found a way to make me say 'yes,' or just trick me into going on the date anyway.

"Excellent!" Charlie chirped. "I'll call him tonight, we'll set up the date for Thursday at my house?"

"Why Thursday? And why at your house?" I was admittedly starting to get a little suspicious. If I had listened to my gut at this point, we would not be sitting here in this choir room. And was locking the door really necessary?

"My parents are out on Thursday, and the reason it's at my house is that my house is unfamiliar ground to both of you, but you also have privacy. I don't want either of you to have the home-field advantage. It's like the Super Bowl." The fact Charlie was turning this date into some sort of battle in his head also made me nervous, but I agreed. "Don't worry, I'll make it wonderfully romantic."

"Charlie, I know your idea of 'wonderfully romantic,'" I said hesitantly, because I know his boyfriend, and 'romantic' isn't really a word he knows the definition of. "_No_ condoms. Not even one." Charlie cracked up laughing, but I was being completely serious.

"Oh, would you relax?" Charlie asked between fits of laughter. "It'll be fine. Maybe the fact that you worry too much is what the directors thought was too feminine about you."

"Really?" I asked dryly. "That's the _only_ thing you can find about me that's feminine." I gestured to my face and to my outfit, and Charlie just shrugged.

That week, the week when Rory was introduced to the Glee club and I had to deal with another countertenor being around for the first time, I was an absolute ball of nerves, but Charlie texted me every so often to remind me to breathe properly and tell me he had everything under control. He refused to tell me anything else about the boy he was setting me up with, which makes sense now, but at the time just made me want to kill him.

I was first at his house on Thursday, which was kind of relaxing. Though I refused to think about the date as a war like Charlie did, being the first to survey the field and find the high ground did give me the upper hand. I would need it.

I took the seat facing the door, and looked around. I had to admire Charlie's attempts at romance (now I just had to convince him to try doing the same thing for his own boyfriend). The room had low lighting, there were candles on the table, and the food looked delicious in its silver platters. I wondered if Charlie was serving us for a moment, because that would be exactly his clever way to observe the date without getting in the way, and then I realized I didn't see the crazy boy anywhere. I decided not to worry about it. Another bad decision.

My heart jumped into my throat and started working overtime when the door opened. "Charlie?" a voice called, and I could have sworn that the voice was familiar. It was, of course, but I had never heard him talk to someone in a relaxed tone that implied they were his equal. I'm sure you still haven't. "So where's this..." Blaine Anderson and I froze at exactly the same moment. The door behind Blaine shut without him even touching it. For a moment, I let myself believe it was the wind, but in the silence we both heard the lock click. "That bitch," Blaine said, turning around and pulling at the doorknob uselessly.

"_You're going to have to try a lot harder than that,_" Charlie's voice came from the intercom I had noticed but paid no attention to. "_All the doors are locked, the windows have been barred since my parents caught a college-age biker sneaking out of a fifteen-year-old me's bedroom, and I promise you I set booby traps outside in case you actually do manage to escape. Have fun, the both of you need it._"

For the next half an hour or so, Blaine walked around and tried all of the exits as I watched. Charlie had locked us together in the room, leaving only the bathroom open, and true to his words, the bathroom windows were barred. "I will kick a hole through your wall," Blaine threatened the empty air, but there was no reply. We had no way of knowing if Charlie was still observing us. "Dickhead," Blaine muttered under his breath.

"_Heard that._" Well that answered that question.

"Let us out!" Blaine yelled, seemingly having remembered my existence.

"_Nope. Now sit down and eat your damn food. It's going to get cold._" No matter what else Blaine called Charlie under his breath (and he had quite a few creative ones), Charlie didn't say anything else after that.

"I'm sorry about this," I apologized. It wasn't really my fault, but I had nothing else to say to Blaine, who was known for being the scariest gay Cheerio in existence, considering everyone thought he was from a reform school. He isn't, in case you're wondering, but I'll get to that.

"It's not your fault. I should have known when Charlie asked to set me up with someone that he had something like this in mind. It's not only characteristic of him, it's _stereotypical_ of him." Blaine seemed to be trying to get a rise from the intercom, which was silent. Blaine grumbled and headed over to the silver dishes Charlie had left. "Do you want your food?"

"Sure," I muttered. Blaine's hostility towards Charlie (I had a feeling some of it was towards me as well) was making the atmosphere uncomfortable, and I was shifting in my chair.

"Do you have to use the bathroom or something?" Blaine asked with a raised eyebrow when he placed my food in front of me, and I stopped shifting immediately.

"No," I said quickly, and Blaine let it go, sitting down opposite me and starting to eat, seemingly perfectly comfortable in the awkward silence. I got the chance to observe him. He was still in his Cheerios uniform, probably having come straight from practice (though he had showered), but for the first time I noticed how his well-built arms stretch the seams, and how the tight shirt emphasizes that Blaine is well-muscled for someone so short. He's cute, too, once you stop being frightened of him, with the most fascinating hazel eyes. His hair was still gelled back, but he had sweated out the gel a little, and it was curling at the edges.

"You're staring," he commented, and I could feel my cheeks heating up as I stopped.

"How are the Cheerios?" The only good piece of advice you have ever given me, Rachel, is that common ground is the key to making conversation with anyone, and logically speaking, Blaine and I had, and have, a lot of common ground.

"Fine. We're pretty excited for Sectionals." Even in these simple words, I was seeing a whole new side of Blaine. He wasn't being sarcastic or biting, or acting like I was dirt underneath his shoe. He was just... talking. Like a normal person, which was something I had never considered him as before.

"I used to be a Cheerio," I piped up, than was tempted to smack myself for how stupid that sounded, but Blaine looked up from his food for the first time since he had sat down, raising an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"During my sophomore year," I said, glad I had finally found something to talk about. "I only did four performances, one of which was mostly Mercedes-"

"Mercedes Jones?" he interrupted, and I could hear the slight against my best girl in his tone (no offense, but I will always consider her my best girl).

"Yes," I said, and now I was the one who was being cold. Tables turned.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said gently. "I didn't mean to offend you, or insult her, it just surprises me that Coach Crazy would have let her be on the Cheerios. I know how obsessed she is with the idea of the perfect Cheerio: 5'3", blonde, too skinny to be real... and female, for that matter." I chuckled at that. That was exactly how Quinn had started out.

"She made an exception, for the both of us. There were... extenuating-ly weird circumstances," I explained, and I told him the story of Madonna week and what had happened with Coach Sylvester.

"Yeah, you two should definitely have a show on Bravo," he said once I had finished the story, but he was actually smiling. That only made him cuter. "Are you not eating?" he asked.

"I'm not really..." I was tempted to smack my head against the table as my stomach growled so loudly it practically talked over me. Blaine smiled like he was trying not to laugh.

"I don't think your stomach agrees with you," he said, and I could hear him trying not to laugh in his tone too. "Eat up, it's pretty good. I guarantee Charlie didn't make it." The intercom was still silent. Blaine sighed. "So what numbers did you perform?" he asked once I had taken my first bite, and he was right. Charlie definitely hadn't made this.

"We did _4 Minutes_ that week," I said, trying to remember what the fourth one had been.

"That's a great number," Blaine commented. "It's a shame we don't do more music like that on the Cheerios. Don't get me wrong, I love Katy Perry, but if I hear anymore of her, I might just scream and smash all the stereos in the school."

"Just stay away from the choir room," I said, a vivid mental image coming to mind.

"Deal."

"Mercedes performed _Beautiful_, by Christina Aguilera, when Coach tried to get her and I to lose weight for a visit from a reporter." Blaine nodded.

"I knew something like that must have happened... but you too?" Blaine asked, and I was flattered by how surprised he sounded.

"That was almost two years ago," I explained. "I still had some baby fat." I still think I do, but first... could this still be considered a date? I had wondered. Anyway, first dates were _not_ the time to bring up insecurities.

"Can't imagine that," Blaine commented, and I had nothing to say to that.

"We did _Fergalicious_ once, but it was just during practice. No one ever saw it." I was, and am, still angry about that. _Fergalicious_ was a fantastic number, and we never got to perform it.

"So, still going along the lines of pop music, just a little bit outdated," Blaine commented, taking a bit of his food and gesturing with a hand for me to go on.

"And during Nationals that year, I did a fourteen minutes Celine Dion medley entirely in French," I said, and yes, it was bragging a little, but that was definitely the number I was most proud of. Blaine almost choked on his food. "You okay over there?" I asked as he coughed.

Blaine nodded, taking a sip of water. "Fine," he said once he could breathe again. "Wow, that is... something." He seemed at a loss for words, and I smiled to myself.

"Yes, that was the best number I did. The Cheerios do so much better with vintage music." Blaine was nodding before I was even done my sentence.

"I agree, or even something that's not _pop_ music. I _like_ pop music, and it's still driving me crazy that I can't perform anything but that with the Cheerios."

"Sounds like Coach hasn't changed much. She respects you more if you stand up to her, you know." Blaine shook his head.

"It's called picking your battles, and songs aren't the most important issues. I'm one of the captains, so where I really have to argue with her is over dangerous stunts. Santana doesn't care, and Becky believes Coach when she says they're fine, but I don't want any of the girls to get hurt." Blaine just shook his head, eating some more of his food, and I admittedly just stared at him. This was a side of Blaine I had never suspected even existed.

"Wow," I said before I could help myself, and Blaine looked up at me with a grin.

"Never expected that from the crazy bitch?" he asked, and I didn't really have an answer to that.

"No... well, I mean... I don't..." Blaine just chuckled.

"No, I understand. People think I'm a scary delinquent."

"Aren't you?" I had lost count of how many times during our conversation I had wanted to smack my head against the table. This was another one of those times. Thankfully, Blaine seemed to find my lack of tact amusing.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I'm from a public high school near Columbus, and not a reform one either. Just a normal high school."

"Why did you transfer?" I asked, and it didn't seem like such a hard question at the time, but Blaine bit his lip.

"I... I don't think I'm ready to tell you that yet," he said, and his voice sounded pained.

"Okay," I said, accepting that as part of the 'past' Charlie had mentioned. We sat in silence for a few minutes, though the silence was considerably less awkward than the earlier silences had been.

"How 'bout them Buckeyes?" Blaine asked, and I blanched.

"I hate football." Blaine stared at me incredulously. "What?"

"I'm sorry, but I've met your brother. How can _you_ hate _football_? Didn't you _play_ football?" I raised my eyebrows. How had he known that? "Charlie told me," he explained. "For some reason, he thought 'football player' was a better seller than 'cheerleader.'"

"Maybe he didn't know about the cheerleading." Under no circumstances did I ever plan to tell Charlie that I had been a cheerleader. The amount of vulgar comments he could come up with based on that... I shudder to think of it.

"Fair enough. So, why would one play a game that they hate?" Blaine asked, and I told him the story of how Brittany had gotten me in a tight spot, neglecting to tell Blaine about Finn's original reaction to my question, or the history there at all. "Well, your life is just a dramatic mess, isn't it?" Blaine didn't sound judgmental, but I had a feeling he was judging me.

"Most of the time, yes," I admitted, because the drama was fodder to the New Directions. There was nothing I could do to avoid it.

"Most of the school seems to be," Blaine commented.

"Definitely," I agreed. "Between scandals, gossip, and flat-out lies, there's never a dull moment at McKinley."

"Yeah, and I swear the least interesting part of the school is the classes. I think I sleep through ninety percent of the day." I nodded. I knew the feeling. "I read more Shakespeare at home than they assign at school, and the books the school assigns are simple compared to my father's library, which consists of Keats, Browning, and the Bronte sisters. Though I'd have to say, my favorite is actually the contemporary author Jonathan Keates, with an extra 'e'. But of course, you already sleep through class, as a senior," he teased, and it was cute how he rambled a little, like he was just as nervous as I was.

"You're not a senior?" For some reason, I had just placed him as a senior because of the authority he had over the school. Blaine shook his head.

"I'm a junior. Why do people always assume that?"

"Maybe because you have the school in your own personal vice?" I suggested, getting bold enough to kid around with Blaine, who smiled.

"Perhaps."

I won't bore you with the rest of the banter, because it went on for quite a while. About two hours after we had finished our food, Charlie finally let us out, because we were running out of subjects and there was absolutely nothing else interesting to do in the kitchen but sit and argue with the silent intercom. Once Charlie had unlocked the front door and disarmed the booby trap that really was lying there, Blaine walked me to my car (down the street).

"Would..." Blaine began hesitantly as I opened the door of the Navigator to get in. He cleared his throat. "Would you like to do this again?" he asked softly, and I was admittedly surprised.

"Yes," I said with no hesitation. Spending time with Blaine had been fun, despite the forced circumstances and the hesitance of the beginning of our conversation. Blaine smiled and hugged me gently before heading off to his own car.

Blaine's snotty expression had returned by the next day, but I walked up to his locker anyway, saying "Hi" softly and my heart sinking when his expression didn't change.

"Hello there, Porcelain. What can I do for you?" he asked icily, his eyes flickering around the hallway as if he had no time for me.

"I..." I was too thrown to say anything articulate. "What... I... Blaine..."

"Very articulate, as I would expect from someone who uses enough hair product to melt their brain," Blaine said coldly, making a few Cheerios standing farther away snigger, then shut his locker abruptly and strutting away, joining arms with one of them and muttering something that made her laugh.

I was ready to call Charlie and kill him just with words as I walked to next period. My phone buzzed, and I opened it, hoping it was Charlie, but the number was unfamiliar. Here, you can read what happened next.

**I am so sorry, I know I shouldn't have done that, but I can't risk having any sort of... it's nothing personal, I just don't want to appear... empathetic, I guess. There's a reason I like the reputation of horrendous bitch that doesn't tolerate anyone not in a Cheerios skirt.**

_What did you whisper to her?_

**... Something that had to do generally with the Glee club and the kind of people involved in it. Kurt, I am so sorry.**

_I don't want to be involved with anyone that would mock me to his friends for the sake of his reputation. Whatever last night was, it's over_.

**Kurt, I promise that will never happen again. We just... can't be like that at school. Or at least, I can't. I really do enjoy spending time with you, and I would really like to see you more, but it can't be here. I can't do that.**

_Why not_?

**I... can't, Kurt. I can't tell you that, but please try to understand. I really didn't mean to offend you: 1) I would love to be in Glee club, but once again it's an image thing. 2) I use *way* more hair product than you do, and your hair still looks better. I would really like to continue talking to you, like this and outside of school. If you still want to.**

_I... okay. I understand about image, and if I had been given the chance when I came to McKinley, the one I would have created for myself would have probably been exactly like you. And my hair definitely looks better :) So, we keep talking?_

**Absolutely**.

I was willing to put up with a lot for Blaine, who I was genuinely starting to like, even though it had only been two days. I put his name in my phone first as 'Secret Admirer', but I knew you ladies would zoom right in on that, then as 'Blaine', because he may have had a secret to keep, but I didn't. I finally settled on 'BA' which, while still a name, would keep us a secret... not that I was particularly happy about that.

I mentally began referring to the day Charlie locked us in his house together as 'Day One', and it was on Day 8, after several more text conversations, that we went to get coffee. Blaine greeted me with a hug, burying his head into my shoulder and clutching onto me, so my natural inclination was to ask what was wrong.

"I... I just saw someone from my old school," Blaine answered, and let go of me at the same time, gesturing for me to sit at the table his Cheerios bag was already sitting near, two coffees on the top. "Skinny vanilla latte okay?" Blaine asked, and I just shrugged. Now wasn't really the time to get picky about my coffee order.

"Are you okay?" I asked him softly, and he sighed.

"Yes. It just... threw me." It was the first time I had seen Blaine vulnerable, and it just made me like him all the more. "I'm not even sure he saw me but... my old school was difficult," he admitted. "Very homophobic. I hated it there, but the rest of the school hated having me there even more. I don't really..." Blaine sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"You don't have to," I said gently, "but know whatever it is won't change this." Blaine just shook his head. "I've been there," I admitted. "People at McKinley, not to scare you off, weren't very accepting to me at all. I've been slushied, thrown in dumpsters, beaten, pranked, nailed with pee balloons," Blaine looked torn between horrified, disgusted, and amused, "almost everything you can think of. They even voted me Prom Queen last year." I took a sip of my coffee to get rid of the sour taste in my mouth.

"I'm so sorry," Blaine said, his expression wiping clean to sympathy, which was pity without condescension.

I then found myself telling Blaine a story I had never told anyone, a story which involves some things that happened last year that I shouldn't talk about, and that I certainly can't tell you about. The important part is: when I finished telling the story, Blaine laid his hand over mine for comfort. "Thank you," I muttered, a little teary. Then I noticed Blaine's eyes, which were also a little bright, but were shifting around the coffee shop, obviously looking for either the person from his old school or someone we knew. Or both. I pulled my hand away.

"I have to get home to my dad," I declared, a ball of lead in my stomach as I stood up. Blaine didn't want us to act like... friends at school, and that was fine, but if Blaine wasn't even comfortable being with me in public, I didn't want to put up with that.

"Kurt..." he said, his apologetic tone suggesting he had figured out that I had figured him out. He opened his mouth to say something else, and I was prepared to let him, but he shut it again, waving me goodbye and forcing me to leave the coffee shop. I really liked Blaine, but I didn't want to be in the closet. Not again.

Blaine texted me again that night.

**I know you didn't have to leave the coffee shop**.

_Maybe I didn't have to leave to see my dad, but I did have to leave. For my morals. I'm not hiding in the closet with you, Blaine. Believe it or not, I've been there and done that, and I will never again be afraid to be myself._

**I'm not asking you not to be yourself. I'm asking you to please accept that I can't be with you publicly. We've both been treated poorly for who we are, and I admire that you're ready to face the world together, but I'm not. Can't you understand that?**

_Blaine, I like you, but I can't be with you like this_.

**Based on what you told me today, how are things going to be for you if we're together openly? I have the Cheerios and my fearsome, delinquent reputation, but I can't be with you at every moment. Can you handle being together in the open?**

_I'm at least willing to try._

**I don't want you to get hurt, Kurt, and I don't want to get hurt either. Please, let's just get to know each other this way. And if things become... serious, we'll talk about being open about it. All right?**

_Okay. I supposed being out, proud, and... with someone, might be a little too much for McKinley right now… but I really don't like this, Blaine_.

**I know, but I do appreciate it. Goodnight, Kurt.**

_Goodnight, Blaine_.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoy the narration. I had fun writing this in first person, really getting inside Kurt's head, so I hope you enjoy reading it. In case there's any confusion, I wrote the story as if Kurt were talking to Rachel, so that makes you, my lovely readers, Rachel :) I appreciate the reviews i got for the last chapter, and I'm assuring you guys right now that Blaine's not realy a bad guy, but you've probably already figured that out.**

**Songs mentioned:  
**'_Four Minutes_' by Madonna feat. Justin Timberlake  
'_Beautiful_' by Christina Aguilera  
'_Fergalicious_' by Fergie

**Reviews are Love. New chapter on Sunday.**


	3. Families and First Dates

On Day 13, we went out for an early dinner, since there was also a show that night. We had been out for coffee twice more in the last five days, and I was starting to consider them 'dates' rather than just... coffee. It was just after the premiere of _West Side Story_, which I didn't want to pressure Blaine to come to, but also very much wanted to see him at, even if Rory had gotten Tony over me. I was telling him a story about Finn and the latest, most ridiculous way he had trashed the kitchen yet. I had expected Blaine to be rolling on the floor laughing, but he was just smiling vaguely and nodding along.

"...And then it blew up!" I continued, and Blaine's smile widened a little for a moment, but soon returned to the barely-there smile he had held throughout the story. "Blaine," I said gently, and when it didn't even register, I realized Blaine hadn't even been listening to me. "Blaine!" I said a little louder, and Blaine looked jolted, blinking. "Have you been listening to me?" It wasn't an accusation, just a question. Regardless, Blaine looked a bit sheepish.

"I... I spaced out a little bit, sorry. I got all the way up until he tried to use Coke bottles and a serving tray to make a sled for going down the stairs," Blaine said, a clear offer for me to tell the story again, but I didn't take it.

"What's wrong?" I asked and Blaine's brow furrowed.

"Nothing," he said innocently.

"Blaine, even when you were listening, you didn't look very amused. What's wrong?" I repeated, and Blaine sighed.

"Nothing. Your family just seems so... normal." I honestly snorted at that. I'm not proud of it, but I did. Blaine chuckled. "Okay, maybe that's not the right word. Peaceful? Happy? Loving?"

"What's your family like?" I asked, and I knew I had picked the right question for finding out what was wrong when Blaine sighed again.

"Not like that," he admitted. "My family is all about yelling and avoiding each other. I haven't seen my brother, Cooper, in two years because he doesn't want to have to deal with any of us. My father spends most of his time in Chicago, and comes home argumentative and tipsy. My mother left my father a long time ago, but since he controlled the back accounts, he came away with all of the money and both of us."

"Blaine, I am-" He didn't let me finish.

"Don't apologize," he said, sighing. "It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. Just... un-luck of the draw, I suppose. I'm just not used to being around families that actually care about one another. Even at my old school, I spent time mostly with people I knew that are... wealthier, and for some reason money breeds familial discourse. Everyone I knew had family issues. You seem to love yours."

"I do, very much," I admitted, because yes, your boyfriend is a goofball, but I do love him dearly. "And I'm sorry that you don't have that in your life, Blaine."

"It's all right," Blaine said, sighing again and starting to hum '_Bad Luck_'. He was even a talented hummer!

"Blaine, can I ask you something?" I said slowly. I know this has been nagging you since the beginning of the story, his talent and my lack of mentioning Glee club, but I'm getting there, okay? Blaine nodded in answer, having ceased humming. "Why did you join the Cheerios instead of the Glee club?" Blaine's face closed off, and he shook his head. "You would be able to display your talents so much better as a part of the New Directions, and you could whatever style of music you wanted to."

"Kurt," he said softly, and I knew he was trying to let me down gently, "I appreciate the... offer, I suppose, but I need the Cheerios."

"Why?" Sadly, at this point in the relationship, I hadn't realized when was pushing and when was just prompting. This was definitely pushing, but Blaine allowed it.

"The Cheerios are my protection from everything, be it from the jocks, Jacob Ben Israel, or anyone who wants to make it their business that I'm not exactly the normal. Being with the Cheerios doesn't help people forget that I'm gay, exactly, but it gives them something else to categorize me as. I'm not 'a gay kid,' I'm a _Cheerio_, and that means people know to be afraid of me and the power I wield. If I were to join the inappropriately-named New Directions," I ignored the fact that Charlie had obviously shared his 'Nude Erections' joke, "I would become the second 'gay Glee kid', and I'm not sure I could handle that... but I _so_ admire that you can." Blaine was looking at me with the biggest, warmest hazel eyes I had ever seen, and I will admit, looking back on it, that I completely melted and didn't say any of the things I wanted to say. Blaine had a lot of protective layers, some of which are gone now, and the fact that he was even letting down his walls for _me_ was amazing. I couldn't ask him to let down his walls for the rest of the world.

"I understand," I said, undoubtedly smiling like an oaf. "Though, if you _were_ a member of the New Directions, you'd be having a lot more fun with a lot less crazy."

"I've met Rachel Berry, Kurt. You cannot promise me any less crazy." Sorry, Rach.

"True." I apologize again.

"I'm still not..." Blaine sighed and looked down at the table top, biting his lip, "I'm still not ready to be myself with anyone again." Call it insanity or call it instinct, I placed my hand gently on top of his, prompting him to look up at me and smile. "Except maybe you."

"I think I can handle that."

I'm guessing you know from Jacob Ben Israel's fully re-vamped blog that Blaine and the Cheerios showed up for _West Side Story_ that night, and they were the first to stand during curtain call. It shocked me, because I hadn't even mentioned the play to Blaine before, knowing how fragile our relationship was at that point. During curtain call, when I was called along with some of the random Jets (way to demean a character with actual lines, by the way), Blaine winked at me, and I realized I was the reason he and his crew were there. Major brownie points... as if he needed any.

The following conversation happened the next day.

**So why did you choose the Glee club over the Cheerios?**

_I did both for a bit_.

**Yes, but you never rejoined the Cheerios your junior year, if I've heard the rumors correctly. Am I not allowed to ask why?**

_Well, Coach didn't beg me, number one. I guess she thought her big, dramatic, vocalist stunt was over and I was no longer absolutely necessary_.

**Is there a number two?**

_I didn't... really want to. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my time with the Cheerios, and, as vain as it makes me sound, I have to admit that I love winning, but... the Cheerios weren't what I believed in. They were so focused on winning that it wasn't very... enjoyable. The whole reason I joined in the first place was so that I could show off my talent, but once the glamour wore off, I realized I wasn't really enjoying myself. So I quit and went back to my natural element. And I love Glee club._

**Write novels much?**

**And yeah, I guess that's understandable, but how can you not enjoy the Cheerios? It's hard work, but it is *fun* and the girls (most of them) are fun to work with.**

_This sounds like a proposal, Mr. Anderson_.

**It is. Rejoin the Cheerios.**

_No_.

**Why not?**

_While I appreciate the offer, I'm not a Cheerio, I'm a Gleek. That's what I've always been, that's what I always will be, and I'm happy with that_.

**Why can't you be both?**

_Conflicts of interest at the top and bottom of the pyramid are never a good thing, Anderson. Sometimes it's best to leave the past be._

_Blaine?_

_Blaine!_

_Blaine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you_.

I should probably explain those last few. I knew the Cheerios mean a lot to Blaine, but there are a thousand and one reasons why I don't want to be a Cheerio anymore, and I know now that Blaine respects these reasons. However, at the time, we were having an argument, a rather _flirty_ argument, I will admit, and Blaine suddenly stopped answering, which made me terribly nervous. I had to sit through the last two periods of the day, waiting and hoping that Blaine wasn't mad and that he would answer. I spent him a few more apologetic messages, but he didn't respond. I knew that if I went to talk to him I would have no way of telling if he was angry or not, because he would act like the bitchy Cheerio he pretends to be. It was torture, waiting until the end of the day for Blaine to reply, and even then he still didn't.

I considered trying to corner him, get him alone so I could talk to him and he would treat me like a human being, but unfortunately he had practice, and even under the pain of death, no one would ever be late to a Cheerios practice. Sue Sylvester could do things a lot worse than merciful death.

I resolved myself to a night of crying and watching romantic comedies and yelling at the screen because the characters were lying to me about how unlikely romances have happy endings. I was convinced that whatever was happening between Blaine and I would end at the two-week mark, that very day, so I was very surprised (and ridiculously happy) to get a phone call that night from an unknown number. There was about a one in seven billion chance that the number was Blaine rather than a prank call or a hate call, worse than my chances of winning the lottery, but at that point I was hoping more for it to be Blaine than I was hoping to win the lottery. I was a little bit ridiculously obsessed at this point.

"_Hey, Kurt,_" came the most amazing voice in the world over the phone (this is _not_ love-struck exaggerating. He actually has a ridiculously phenomenal voice, even on the phone. But you know how incredible his voice is).

"Blaine, hi," I said shyly, wishing I had lived twenty years earlier so I would have a phone cord to twist around my fingers while I was talking.

"_I'm sorry about today. Mrs. Rattlesnake took my phone_." Mrs. Ratchet, nicknamed Mrs. Rattlesnake by some of the very unfortunate juniors who are thus far the only people who have had to deal with her, is Blaine's English teacher. "_This is my home phone, by the way, in case you want to save it_."

"I definitely will," I said before I realized how creepy that would sound. "I mean..."

"_All right, Rose, just don't be sneaking into my house while I'm out, okay?_" Blaine said teasingly, and I couldn't help but giggle. It was funnier when he said it.

"Fine, fine, I'll stop doing that." I had no idea where Blaine lived. That was the only thought in my head at that moment.

"_As for the Cheerios, I totally understand why you don't want to re-join the team. I admit the Cheerios can be trying at times, and it's awful to have to deal with Coach Sylvester everyday, and maybe the magic of performing will eventually wear off for me too... but I sincerely doubt that._" I sighed a little dreamily. Blaine chose (wisely) not to comment on it.

"So, our first fight is resolved then?" I asked teasingly, but the answer wasn't _quite_ what I had been expecting.

"_'Our first fight'?_" Blaine repeated. "_Does that mean we're dating now?_"

"I... Well..." You may be wondering about my hesitation. Of _course_ I wanted to be Blaine's boyfriend, but our relationship was... fragile at best, and I was worried that the past he kept alluding to but never talking about would be our breaking point. This was admittedly completely stupid, but it was how I was feeling at the time. Blaine seemed like the perfect guy, with some... limitations, but I didn't know him all that well, and I _really _didn't want my first relationship to be closeted.

"_Kurt?_" he asked softly as I stuttered some more. "_I know our relationship isn't perfect, far from it, and I know it's not exactly what you want, and we don't know each other very well, but I really like you, and I would love it if you would be my boyfriend._" At this point I paused in shock because I was admiring his nerve.

"I would love that too," I replied once I had gotten my head back on, and Blaine breathed a sigh of relief.

"_Awesome. So how does Friday sound for our first official date?_" he asked.

"That's in three days." Okay, I was pouting. But just a little bit.

"_I think you'll survive. Goodnight, Kurt._" Blaine had hung up, rather abruptly, before I got the chance to return the sentiment. I was about to call him back and berate him for it, but I realized it may have had something to do with his father and messed up family. After all, it was his home phone.

I won't bore you with how I was constantly nervous, distracted, and jumpy for the next three days. You probably noticed that, but you were busy with Finn's recruitment and the fact that _West Side Story_ was still running and all that, so you thankfully didn't ask me about it.

Don't give me that look.

When Friday came, after what felt like several torturous lifetimes, I arrived at BreadstiX a bit early. Yes, our first date was set to be at BreadstiX, which wasn't exactly covert, but apparently Blaine wasn't terribly worried about being seen with me, which made me feel a little better. It was a bit chilly, being late October, but I resolved to sit outside and wait for Blaine.

The time when we were supposed to meet came and went, and I was freezing at this point, so I went inside. I checked with one of the waitresses to see if Blaine had arrived (he hadn't) and scanned the restaurant for him anyway, because I refused to accept the reality of what was happening. Blaine was standing me up.

I am embarrassed to admit that I stood outside for another hour before I gave up. My first thought was that apparently Blaine was more worried about seeing me in public than I had originally thought, but I dismissed that notion pretty quickly. Blaine had been the one to set the parameters for our date by text, I would have driven out to Columbus to be with him. My second thought (which should have been my first thought) was that something had happened, that Blaine had gotten into a car accident or been caught by some toothless thugs, who aren't usually the type of person to appreciate a male cheerleader who is widely known for his sexuality. That thought was easily dismissed by a call to Lima General, which reported no admissions of anyone near our age in any regional hospital. My third thought was what I eventually decided on.

Blaine didn't really like me. I know, don't give me that face, it was stupid, but it was how I was feeling at the time. I'm sure if I gave you free range to tell some dramatic story about Finn, all I would be hearing out of your mouth would be your misguided emotions. Anyway, that's what I assumed, that Blaine had decided he didn't want to date me, that he only liked me as a friend, that he only put up with me because Charlie was proud of getting us together. It could have been anything, but I was convinced that Blaine wasn't interested.

Then the first call came. Admittedly, I chucked my phone at the wall, but for something shipped in a box marked fragile, iPhones are indestructible, and it kept ringing. I, of course, stubborn as always, didn't answer.

So he called again, and I went downstairs to hang out with the family, not wanting to listen to my phone ring and see 'BA Calling' on the screen, knowingly that he probably just wanted to tell me what he should have told me before I waited in the cold for almost two hours for him: that he didn't want to go on that date. Finn asked me what was wrong multiple times, being the only person that was in the house since Dad and Carole were in Washington, but I ignored him.

He had called four times when I went back upstairs, and had left one voicemail. Pure weakness was the reason I listened to it, and I'm certainly glad I did. I don't remember the exact wording, but it went something like this:

_Hey, Kurt, it's me, Blaine, but you obviously know that because you're not answering. I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be peeved, but if you had picked up one of my earlier calls you would have been a lot happier a lot faster. I am currently on a bus, leaving Chicago with the Cheerios. It's risky to call you, but I don't care. The Cheerios Sectionals got moved, and I only found out after school when Coach hoarded us onto the bus. I would have called or texted, but Coach Sylvester took all of our phones and told us to review our choreography and some other... not so nice things that I really don't want to repeat because she's already glaring at me. We won, in case you care, which you probably don't. I'm sorry about missing our first date, and I hope you didn't wait too long. I really like you, and I'm sure you've been doubting that while we competed, but you are an amazing person, Kurt, and I feel... completely comfortable around you. The only other person I really feel comfortable around is Brittany, and she's currently snoring on my lap. So, it's about midnight, and I hope you're in bed right now. I'll be back in Lima at around three in the morning, so I'm going to get some sleep, but call me back if you listen to this and ever want to talk to me again. I hope to hear from you... well, I guess it's later today now. Sweet dreams, Kurt_.

I cried a little listening to it honestly. Blaine was the sweetest guy I had ever met, yes, sweeter than Finn, and I couldn't be mad at him for the actions... or should I call them antics? of his crazy cheerleading coach. He loved the Cheerios, and I was proud that they had won their Sectionals. It was important to Blaine, and so it was important to me. I called him back at around two o'clock the next afternoon.

"_Hmm_?" was the kind of coherency I received at that hour.

"I would say 'good afternoon', but it's obvious you just woke up, so, good morning!" I said, a little bit sarcastically but mostly affectionately.

"_Kurt!_" At least he sounded lucid. "_You actually called me back. I wasn't sure you were going to_."

"Unfortunately, you're charming enough that your words can help you get away with making me stand out in the cold for two hours hoping you were just late." Okay, so I was trying to make him feel a little guilty. It had been really cold outside of BreadstiX!

"_You stood out there for...oh my God, Kurt, I am so sorry_." Teasing Blaine was no fun, however, when he was honestly remorseful. "_I can't believe you waited there for two hours! I'm not even worth it!_"

"You really are though." Now _I_ was being stupidly sweet, but I meant it.

"_I..._" Blaine was speechless. It was rather remarkable.

"If you can remember to show up this time, how about we go on a date _this_ Friday?" I asked, and then because I couldn't help but get a little more ribbing in, "if you don't have Regionals."

"_I would say you're not funny, but I wouldn't be able to not laugh as I said it,_" Blaine replied, and it sounded like he was smiling. "_And I definitely deserved that. But yes, I would be absolutely thrilled to try this again_."

"Good. When _is_ your Regionals, just for reference's sake?" I asked, but I was less teasing and more trying to find a reason to see Blaine perform. Coach Sylvester has fallen out of the habit of forcing students to come to pep rallies she set up, and I wanted to watch Blaine perform with the Cheerios now that I thought of him as my _boyfriend_ rather than an intolerable bitch.

"_Not for a while. It's ridiculous that we had Sectionals this early in the year. Most of the time Sectionals isn't until November at _least." I chose to ignore that Blaine said nothing about Glee and our Sectionals. I was still working on not pushing him, and asking him to come support me seemed like too much, even though he had already done so. I know, I was an idiot.

Blaine and I texted back and forth that entire week, Blaine still feeling bad about having stood me up and me... very much taking advantage of that fact to talk to my boyfriend as much as possible. I was still kind of marveling that I actually had a boyfriend; it seemed surreal. The only conversation we had that week that was even mildly important is this one. Just let me scroll through.

**I swear to God, if Coach Sylvester suggest one more helicopter for Regionals, I might just have to call the cheerleading authorities on her**.

_Who exactly are the cheerleading authorities?_

**... I'll look into that. How's Glee club, by the way? I spend so much of my time with a member of the New Directions, and I seem to know nothing about them.**

_Considering me a member of the New Directions might be a little bit of a stretch. I know you've never heard me sing, but I can assure you that I'm a countertenor, and you probably guessed that based on my speaking voice. Which isn't an issue, but now there's a new countertenor, that Irish exchange student, who can also go low (which I can't) and is totally stealing my spotlight. He's taking over the Glee club, because Finn adores him and Rachel is more than happy to sing with him. He just got the lead in West Side Story over me, and it's only getting worse. Plus, Rachel and I are working towards trying out for the New York Academy for Dramatic Arts (NYADA), but we've run into the major issue that there are other people in the world that are just as talented and driven as we are and it's completely shaken both of our confidences, mine especially since Rory is just making life more difficult for me. Plus, we just got our competition bracket for Sectionals, and we're obviously going up against the Troubletones (a group of girls that are also here at McKinley) and the Unitards, whom I've never heard of before, but it's also the first time in *years* that we're competing in our own auditorium, and we're freaking out! ...Oh my gosh, I just talked at you for half a page. I'm so sorry._

**It's okay. It's cute. *You're* cute. And who said I've never heard you sing? I'm very sneaky.**

_I should go, I have a room of suspicious students and Mr. Schuester is giving me that disapproving look which means he knows I'm texting but he's not going to call me on it because I'm a member of the New Directions. We'll talk next period?_

**Of course**.

That was the first time he asked me about Glee, and one of the rare times he has since, plus he also revealed that he's been spying on me. I found out exactly when he had been spying on me much later.

Friday took forever to arrive, and came far too soon for my liking. I was ridiculously nervous about going on my first official date with Blaine, even though we had technically already been on one blind date, and many 'not-dates' since then. Those hadn't exactly ended up being anything like a real date with him (I hoped), so I had no idea what to expect. Blaine had decided against BreadstiX (once I told him the food really wasn't all that good. Apparently, he had never been there before) and we were going to a real restaurant in Dayton. Even the idea of the drive intimidated me, sitting in a car with him for over an hour. We hadn't spent a lot of face time together, and I was incredibly nervous that I was either going to become a complete idiot, run out of things to say and not be able to end the conversation with an excuse, or get distracted by the fact that my gorgeous boyfriend was sitting across from me.

"Hey," Blaine said brightly, smiling at me. We had agreed to meet at the school at five thirty so we would be guaranteed to be at the restaurant by our seven o'clock reservation, and we wouldn't have to deal with frustrating parents (or the fact that he lived in Westerville). He had probably just come from practice, but he had changed this time. It was the first time I had seen him out of a Cheerios uniform, and he looked _good_. He gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. "How was your day?"

"Fine," I replied, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms on my pants.

Blaine frowned a bit, but didn't let my unintentionally terse answer bother him. "Laconic. How's _West Side Story_ going?" he asked as we got into his car, him holding the door open for me and me thanking him with a tight smile. "How many performances do you guys have left?"

"We wrapped up last Saturday," I replied as Blaine climbed in his side of the car and started the engine. "The show went really well. Rory and Rachel should be proud."

"How's Glee?" Blaine asked, and I felt bad that he was providing all the questions to create conversation, but I had no idea how to act on a date and suddenly couldn't think of anything to say except to answer... plus I was worried about sounding stupid, which I knew would happen if I let myself talk for too long. It was a silly feeling to have about a first date with someone who I had technically been 'seeing' for over three weeks, but I was nervous. Sue me.

"Fine. Mr. Schuester and Miss Corcoran announced today that we'll be having a New Directions versus Troubletones mash-up competition, which is an annual tradition, but I have a feeling that won't turn out particularly well because of the bad blood that caused the creation of the Troubletones in the first place," I rambled as Blaine pulled onto the highway.

"That should be... interesting," was all Blaine had to say in reply, and I felt so guilty he was carrying the conversation at this point, I actually got the nerve to speak up, staying with the safe topics.

"Maybe we should put on some music," I suggested, and I didn't even care that he put on WNCI 97.9. The pop music (and the first song _had_ to be Katy Perry, didn't it?) filled the awkward silence. "How are the Cheerios?"

"Okay," Blaine said casually. "Santana's been kind of awful lately, but I think she's just stressed out. She's really taking the whole Glee thing hard, but I think there's something else going on with her." I always have the tendency to forget that there _are_ some girls who choose to be both Cheerios and members of, well, the Troubletones now, but formerly the New Directions. Blaine probably just asked about Glee to be polite.

"There definitely is," was all I said in reply.

More silence, though considerably less awkward, followed my reply, until Blaine asked, "Kurt, is everything okay? You're acting rather... odd."

"I'm fine." Don't give me that look, Rachel. I was embarrassed to admit that I was nervous. I could almost guarantee that this wasn't Blaine's first date, and I know now that it definitely wasn't. Blaine, I figured, probably had done this a hundred times, and he would think I was silly for being nervous. He didn't, but we'll get there.

We continued to chat awkwardly for the rest of the ride to Dayton, Blaine trying to keep the conversation going for about the first half an hour and then giving up for the rest of the ride, content to sing along to the radio and occasionally glance over at me. I went to slide out of the car once we pulled up in front of the restaurant Blaine had picked out for us, but Blaine's hand on my arm stopped me.

"Wait," he said, as if that wasn't obvious from his motion. "We obviously need to talk." My throat closed up. I knew, logically, that Blaine wasn't breaking up with me, but those were perfect break-up words.

"About?" I asked, a little choked up, and Blaine smiled at me softly.

"How nervous you are," Blaine said with a little chuckle, which didn't make me feel much better. The humor dropped off his face. "Kurt, is this your first date?" I nodded, embarrassed, and then I further mortified myself when he reached over to cup my cheek and I jumped about a foot. He didn't react though. "Don't worry about it, okay? This is just like every other time we've met up. There's no reason to be nervous. I really like you, and even if this date is absolutely awful, I will still really like you, okay?" I nodded again, still at a loss for words, and Blaine leaned over to kiss my cheek. "Come on. Let's eat, I'm starved."

Blaine wasn't exaggerating, and he practically shoveled his food down, prompting me to mock his poor table manners teasingly. Once I had calmed down, our date was perfectly relaxed and fun. It was also the first time I got to see the proof of Charlie's words: Blaine really was an absolute sweetheart and genuinely nice.

"You're staring," Blaine said, breaking me out of my musings right after we ordered dessert. I had been wondering why this sweet Blaine was so, _so_ different from the Blaine McKinley High was accustomed to, and what it would be like if Blaine treated everyone the way he treated me. I also wondered why I was so special, but those were insecurities I would let fester because I am an _idiot_... but more on that later.

"You look really nice," I said honestly, trying to ignore the fact that my face was heating up. Blaine smiled at me sweetly.

"Thank you, and you look ridiculously stunning as usual, but that's not what you were thinking. Believe it or not, we have spent enough time together that I recognize the difference between you staring because you want to and staring because you're zoned out. What are you thinking?" I was internally split between being pleased that Blaine knew me so well and a little annoyed that he could read me like a book.

"Just... in the car, you were... _incredibly_ sweet," Blaine was the one blushing a little bit now, and it was completely adorable, "I was just wondering why you aren't like that all the time." I literally saw it when Blaine's face closed off. It was the emotional shut-out I had received so many times, but never in person.

"Because if I was like that all the time, my life would be miserable," Blaine said flatly, and the romantic, flirty edge to our conversation was completely gone.

"Blaine, I just meant-" I tried to fix my faux pas, but Blaine cut me off.

"I really don't want to talk about this," he said brusquely as the waitress brought over our desserts. For the entire dinner, this annoying waitress had been sticking her (barely-there) breasts in Blaine's face whenever she could, and he hadn't so much as acknowledged her presence until now. "Could you bring over the check?" he asked, and my stomach sunk. I had definitely messed up.

The drive home was a thousand times more tense than the drive there. When we arrived back at McKinley, Blaine parked one spot from my car, and I had a feeling it was pure, ingrained chivalry that prompted him to get out and open my door for me. He didn't say a word and I had nothing to say. "Goodnight, Kurt," he said sharply once he had shut the door behind me, and he walked back around to the driver's seat before I could even return the sentiment. I stood by my car and watched him drive away, wondering how horrible his past must be that even a mention of him being sweet made him close off.

* * *

**A/N: I'm actually remembering to update this story weekly! Win! Anyway, don't you worry too much about these boys, Blaine knows that he gets a little... dramatic, and next chapter's really sweet, I promise :) I hope you guys are enjoying.**

**Song mentioned: **'_Bad Luck_' by Social Distortion

**Reviews are Love.**


	4. Sunday in thePark and Kisses in the Rain

That Saturday was torture. Blaine didn't try to contact me in any way, not even once, and I felt too guilty and too nervous to attempt to reach out to him. I started to call his home phone once, but I chickened out after the first two rings and hung up. I was convinced that I had permanently wrecked my budding relationship with Blaine. I spent Saturday night curled up on the couch with a very angry Finn, watching action movies and trying not to have some sort of stereotypical break-up meltdown. I ended up falling asleep on your boyfriend, my apologies, after about the third movie, and apparently Finnegan sensed that there was something wrong, because I woke up cuddled almost on top of my former crush, wrapped in his arms, both of us covered in a blanket. He makes an excellent brother.

I was making eggs for Finn and I when Blaine called. I, pathetic as I am, immediately dropped everything, despite Finnegan's protests, to answer the call, and I had plenty of rubbery eggs later because of it.

"_Hi, Kurt_," was all Blaine said, but I began apologizing profusely anyway, for upsetting him and bringing up his past, but he stopped me. "_Kurt! Kurt! Stop apologizing, you didn't do anything wrong. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I acted... inexcusably last night. I know you don't mean harm when you say things like that, and I shouldn't be so emotional, but unfortunately I have this terrible habit of pushing all of my emotions deep down and essentially turning myself into a human minefield._"

"Blaine, you shouldn't apologize for having been through a lot in your life, and you're also right," I said as Blaine began to argue. "I shouldn't apologize for not knowing you well enough to know what are potential triggers. How about we just agree to put this incident, and all future incidents like this one that I'm sure we'll have, behind us?"

"_That sounds excellent, and perfectly rational, and I'm kind of in awe of you for your solution_," Blaine said, but the dynamic of our conversation had returned to teasing and flirting. "_Spend the day with me_."

"Is that a request or a demand?"

"_More like a plea. I know it's early, and I know you probably haven't eaten yet, so why don't you eat some breakfast, and we'll meet in McKinley Memorial Park at about nine?_" When I looked to the clock it was about seven thirty, so that gave me plenty of time to feed Finn, dress, and drive over to the park.

"Sounds excellent."

"_I just have one question_."

"Shoot," I replied, trying to mask my slight nerves.

"_Why is this town so obsessed with William McKinley?_" Blaine asked, and I laughed, having no answer. "_Seriously! He wasn't a bad president, but he didn't do terribly much_."

"Not much about this town has ever made sense to me. I'll see you in a bit."

"_Definitely_."

It was a statement to how comatose Finn is in the mornings that he didn't even ask who I had been on the phone with. I threw out the batch of eggs I had been making (since they had deteriorated severely in quality while I was on the phone), put on a new batch, and began mentally planning my outfit for my Sunday in the park with Blaine.

The most exciting part about this date was that it was the community park in Lima. True, many of the people we know were probably in church at that hour of the morning, but there was still a large possibility that we would run into someone we knew. The fact that Blaine was even a little willing to be seen in public with me was thrilling... so you can't imagine how angry and upset I felt when I arrived at the park and barely recognized my boyfriend.

Blaine wasn't in uniform, which wasn't surprising since it was a weekend, he was wearing jeans, a black leather bomber, and a bright blue toque. He was a little stubbly, and the hair I could see peeking out from under the toque was un-gelled, mussed and curly. Objectively, he looked amazing, gorgeous, and completely drool-worthy, but my issue was that he didn't look like _himself_, and it was just another way he was hiding us in the closet.

"So this is your solution?" I demanded of him before he could even greet me.

"Pardon?" he asked, and I got even angrier, thinking he was playing innocent.

"Dressing like this, this is your solution to not wanting people to see us in public together? I barely even _recognized _you, Blaine, so it's definitely working." Blaine looked completely thrown and a little upset, but I didn't even register this. "Why didn't you just ask me to meet you at a park in Dayton? That would have been a lot less effort!"

"Kurt, this isn't about not being recognized," Blaine said, still sounding a little confused. "I don't care who sees us here, not after Friday. I really don't, and the likelihood that anyone will anyway is slim. This is prime church-going time."

"Then why are you dressed like that?" I asked, and Blaine still looked a little hurt. "I mean, it's not that you don't look..." my cheeks heated up, as there are a variety of adjectives I could use to describe Blaine at that moment, "good," I settled on, "_really_ good, it's just that you look really different than I'm used to."

"This is me," Blaine said with a shrug. "This is what I dressed like, what I looked like, before I started worrying about my image and what people thought of me. This is who I am behind the Cheerios uniform, and this is the person I want to be around you." Now I felt like a complete and total asshole.

"Blaine, I'm so sorry, I just..." Blaine shook his head.

"No, it's fine. I can understand why you would jump to that conclusion. I barely recognized myself in the mirror this morning, that's how long it's been since I was myself. But I want to be myself around you," he admitted, his hazel eyes earnest, and I completely melted.

"I want that too," I said softly, kissing him on the cheek. "Shall we walk?"

"Sure," Blaine said as we headed up the path around the relatively small park. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I replied, because it was so rare that Blaine was curious.

"Why didn't you just kiss me?" he asked, and I stopped walking, I was that thrown.

"Well, I... We..." Usually, this was the point in my stuttering at which Blaine interrupted me, but he seemed perfectly content to wait for me to form a sentence. "We've never..."

"I know," Blaine said, thankfully saving me from myself once he had gotten the gist of what I was trying to say, "but I have to admit, that was kind of a movie-perfect, first kiss moment we just had." He chuckled, and I tried my best not to blush... which means I completely failed.

"I..." I cleared my throat and tried my confession again. "I've never kissed anyone... at least, not someone that I wanted to kiss." Blaine knew what I meant by that, but he surprisingly didn't say anything. Instead, he just smiled and took my hand as we walked.

We must have circled that park a dozen times talking. Blaine told me stories about his old friends from Columbus, just the positive stories, and I entertained him with tales of the New Directions, during many of which we had to stop because he was laughing too hard to walk. He found your boyfriend walking down the hallway in underwear particularly amusing. We debated about music and ranted about unfair LGBT politics, and it was the best of our three dates thus far. It was during a conversation about a Chick-fil-A kiss-in that the topic of kissing came up again.

"How many people have you kissed?" I asked him once Blaine had finished regaling me with a story of how his brother had gone to one of those kiss-ins, even though he wasn't gay. I figured by asking him that question I could figure out how many boyfriends, or at least, how many romantic entanglements he'd had.

"Oh, I don't know," Blaine answered with a shrug. "I lost count. Boys, girls, people that I couldn't categorize as either."

"What?" I... okay, I may have shrieked a little bit, letting go of his hand and stopping in the middle of the path. I was surprised! Blaine didn't seem like the kind of guy who would be... spreading it around, if you know what I mean.

"No, Kurt, I'm just kidding. Well, kind of," he corrected. "What I meant is that I ran a kissing booth for about four hours at a fundraiser for my old school. It was supposed to be funny," he said weakly in reply to my facial expression, which must have been very judgmental.

"It wasn't."

"I'm guessing that what you really meant by that questions was how many boyfriends I've had, and I just freaked you out completely." I nodded, and Blaine chuckled, reaching up to run a hand through his hair and stopping himself at the last second. "Sorry. I've had two boyfriends." Blaine didn't say anything more, and I, having developed a sense of self-preservation at this point when it came to Blaine's raw nerves, didn't ask. "Three, including you," he corrected with a smile.

We walked around the park until lunch time, then we took a quick walk over to Panera, grabbed salads and smoothies (actually, Blaine got some sort of monster, meat-filled sandwich), and returned to the park for an impromptu picnic. We eventually decided to part at about four in the afternoon, having talked about everything we could think of by three, and simply enjoying each others' presence for the last hour. Okay, I'm being a little dramatic, but still. It was an amazing date. It's a testament to how laid-back my dad is that no one texted me once to ask where I was, and even when I got home, humming and generally floating on air, no one asked, which kind of hurt a little bit, but more on that later.

Blaine followed me home in his car, deciding to drop me off as a proper gentleman would, which I wasn't aware of. He hopped out of his car when I was about halfway up the walk to my house. "Kurt, wait up!" he called out, half-running over and generally being the most adorable thing I have ever seen in my life.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, but I did wait for him. I wasn't too concerned about my father or Finn suddenly appearing (Carole was a non-issue, she was working).

"I figured I should drop you off. It's proper. It may be a little out-dated, but..." Blaine shrugged.

"It's sweet," I promised him as we approached my doorstep.

"I may have an ulterior motive though," he admitted a little bashfully as he put a hand on the door to prevent me from going inside.

"Oh?" I asked, not at all surprised. I had kind of expected it.

"You see, there's this really amazing guy that I'm lucky enough to be dating. There's just one little thing." I let Blaine continue with his bizarre hypothetical. "He's never kissed anyone in a way that counts, whatever that means, and I'm not sure if he'll let me kiss him."

"I think..." I said as if I was seriously considering it, "that he'll do you one better." Before Blaine could ask what I meant, and before I could lose my nerve, I leaned forward and kissed him, cupping one hand around the back of his neck. I had no idea what to do with the other one, so I let it rest on his arm as he cupped my jaw with one hand and placed the other on my waist, pulling me closer.

I shouldn't get... too involved with the description of this, but it was... amazing. Breath-taking. Absolutely everything I'd imagined from my first kiss and more. Blaine's lips were coarse, but gentle, and I don't have much experience, but even I know that he is an _awesome_ kisser, to use one of Finn's favorite words. I'll admit to... deepening the kiss a little bit, and I think the only reason that we stopped is because we both heard a door slam from somewhere inside the house, breaking... well, I don't know how Blaine was feeling, but it definitely broke me out of my trance.

"Wow," Blaine said when he pulled away, smiling.

"Oh, good, so it wasn't just me," I said, and he chuckled.

"Not at all." He cleared his throat, pulling out of our embrace. "I... I should go, but I'll see you tomorrow?" Sadly, we weren't at the point where we would do anything except _see _each other tomorrow, but I was so happy at that point I didn't really care.

"Definitely," I said, feeling (ridiculously) a little shy. Blaine grinned at me and gave me another quick, electric peck before he headed for his car, whistling as he did so. I walked into my house with the biggest grin on my face, and then I sighed taking in Finn's expression. What had Santana done now?

Blaine and I spent a grand total of two days being completely, blissfully enamored with each other. Looking back on all of this, our love story is so much more dramatic than yours with Finn, I should really stop mocking you. Anyway, we were texting late on Tuesday night. What we were talking about isn't actually important this time (I think I was bitching about Santana and he was being a very good boyfriend, doing his best to smile and nod through texts), it was what was going on around me that time.

"What are you doing over there that has you so happy?" my dad asked me suspiciously. It wasn't that he didn't want me to be happy, he was just wary whenever I smiled at the screen of my iPhone. It usually meant that I had found something I would beg him to buy for me.

"Nothing," I lied, because I had a feeling the truth wouldn't go over too well.

"Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes, kiddo." One of the things I didn't like about being the Hudson-Hummels was this. The new parental authority. Before Carole and Finn, my dad had always trusted me to look out for myself and be responsible on my own, but with the addition of the Hudsons, he had started to take an interest in my life, and it often wasn't very appreciated.

"Who are you texting, sweetie?" Carole asked from the kitchen, but our floor plan is open enough that she could be a part of the conversation.

"I... I can't tell you," I admitted, and my dad immediately looked super suspicious.

"Is it a boy?" I nodded. "I want to meet him."

"You can't," I emphasized. "We're not..." I didn't want to say 'dating', because that flat-out wasn't true, and saying 'exclusive' would have given my dad a second heart attack, "out," I decided on. "We're not out. At least, not as a couple."

"What do you mean, 'not as a couple'?" Dad asked.

"I mean, he's out, and I'm out, but we're not out together." As I said the words, they sounded like the stupidest thing I had ever heard, and my dad agreed with my assessment, judging by his expression.

"That doesn't make any sense," Dad said. "What, is he one of those guys who doesn't want the commitment involved in being 'dating'?" My dad wasn't immature, he simply put air quotes around the word because he was mocking those who were. Blaine didn't have issues with commitment... or did he? I began wondering.

"No, it's not like that," was what I said out loud. "We _are_ dating, we're just... a secret."

"That doesn't sound good to me, buddy," my dad said, but I heard the words he didn't say. It sounded like Blaine was ashamed to be with me, but I knew he really wasn't. At least, I certainly know that now, but I was beginning to doubt everything at that point.

These thoughts festered until Thursday. "Hey," Blaine said, approaching me kind of casually in the school hallway. Glee practice and Cheerios practice had gotten out at the same time, and Blaine looked kind of nervous at talking to me in the mildly-populated hallway. The logical thought would be to admire him for trying, but I had been so pent up and full of worries for the past two days that I wasn't exactly thinking logically. "How was Glee?"

"Well, we just performed a ridiculous Hall and Oates number that is going to get our butts kicked by the Troubletones, but other than that it was all right," I replied calmly, repeating to myself that Blaine wasn't embarrassed to be with me.

"So, I was thinking that we should celebrate our mensiversary," Blaine said casually, and I tried to ignore how his voice had quieted a little bit.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"It's been exactly four weeks since Charlie set us up on a date, and even though we've only been actually dating for about half of that time," Blaine shrugged, "I just think it's an important milestone."

"I... sure," I said casually, wondering where Blaine had come up with this idea. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure," Blaine admitted. "I was thinking..." As Blaine went over all of the special things he was considering planning for an incredibly sweet, completely made-up holiday, I reached over to fix the strap of his messenger bag, and he batted my hand away.

"What, I'm not allowed to fix your strap?" I asked when Blaine did it himself, and Blaine looked confused.

"It's not a big deal, Kurt-"

"What if it's a big deal to me?" I demanded, and I'll admit that I had completely lost it at this point. "Why is it so hard for you to be with me in public, even a little bit? You won't even let me _fix your damn strap_!" About half of the cheerleaders were staring (and so were you, don't deny it), so Blaine took a quick look around and dragged me out of the hallway, through the doors he had just come through and out into the pouring rain the Cheerios had just practiced in. Blaine pulled me under the bleachers, scattering some people who had been making out with a glare, and huddling under the protection the metal seats granted with me.

"What is this about?" Blaine demanded, wrapping his arms around himself as the wind whipped at the thin material of his Cheerios uniform.

"Why don't you want to be with me in public?" I demanded. "Is it about commitment? Are you... are you ashamed of me?" I finally asked the question that had been haunting me since the day Blaine made it clear he didn't want to be public with me, and Blaine looked shell-shocked.

"What? _No_! Are you crazy? What- No, just no. Of course I'm not ashamed of you, Kurt. You're amazing, and beautiful, and sassy, and talented, and I'm _lucky_ to be with you. And it has nothing to do with commitment either. I will happily commit to you, if that's what you want."

"Then what is it?" I demanded, and Blaine sighed.

"Kurt, you know that I can't explain this to you, especially not now. Please, can you just let it go?" he asked. In hindsight, it was a perfectly reasonable request, made by an incredibly sweet, romantic man who had been going out of his way to prove to me how special he found me just a few minutes ago, and was now freezing his butt off to calm me down in the midst of what must have seemed like a completely irrational freak-out. I had really lost it.

"No," I said coldly. "Either you tell me right now what the big issue is, or we're over." Blaine looked completely thrown, hurt and upset. I'm not proud of what I did that day, Rachel, but it was quite honestly the kick in the pants that our relationship needed... but I'll get to that later.

"Then we're over," Blaine said decisively, and I was shocked that he had chosen his image over me. Blaine walked away, rubbing his freezing arms as he did so, before I could get another word in. That word probably would have been an expletive.

For someone who had just ended their first relationship at seventeen years old, the following week was the loneliest of my life. I knew we were broken up, but I couldn't ignore the connection we still had, how I noticed every emotion that flitted across Blaine's face even when he was trying to act cold to the rest of the world. I was surprised that he didn't express his anger through his usual vitriol. Instead, he kind of just ignored me, looking down as I walked past and not acknowledging my existence. For some reason, that was so much worse than him just being cruel to me.

As you know, we got our butts kicked by the Troubletones at that mash-up competition, and I had no one to talk with after Finn got bitch-slapped by Santana. I'm still on the fence about whether he deserved it or not. Lady Music Week had already started when Brittany asked me to meet her after Cheerios practice. Considering Brittany often got a little confused about Cheerios' choreography (she's an amazing dancer, but sometimes the fact that Coach Sylvester gives them the choreography verbally rather than visually messes her up), I didn't think anything of it. At least, not until I sludged across the football field through the rain (it had to be raining again, didn't it?) and I saw Blaine waiting for me.

"Hi," he greeted me as if nothing were out of the ordinary, but his voice sounded scratchy. He looked tired, and I wondered if he had been getting as little sleep as I had that week. "Can we talk?"

"I thought we were over," I said a little bitterly, because as upset as I was about Blaine and I being over, the reality of it hadn't really hit yet, and I was more angry than anything that Blaine had picked his image over me.

"I don't want us to be over," Blaine replied, reaching out to take my hand. I allowed it, though for a moment I pettily considered batting his hand away as he had done to me last week. "Especially not because of this."

"That's the problem exactly," I said with a sigh, not really able to stay angry at Blaine. "_This_. The only way you ever refer to your past is vaguely, and whenever I try to find out more, you shut me out and become defensive. Relationships are a two-way street, Blaine, you need to trust me."

Blaine was the one who sighed at that point, rubbing his free hand through his soaked-wet hair. "I do trust you. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't have asked you to come here, I wouldn't be _trying_." The rain provided an excellent cover for the fact that my eyes were getting a little wet, and I had a feeling that Blaine was having the same problem. "I trust you enough to be myself around you. This isn't about trust."

"Than what is it about?" I asked, bold. I knew that whatever it was Blaine was hiding would be the defining point in our relationship, but I was hoping that we were strong enough that his past wouldn't break us.

"Fear," Blaine admitted, sounding a little choked up. "I'm afraid that if you know how screwed up I really am, you won't want to be with me anymore." I was stunned. Not only could I not imagine anything bad enough that I wouldn't want to be with Blaine anymore (at that point, he could have been a serial killer and I still would have been happy with him), but this also brought up the possibility that my pushing for details was the reason he kept withdrawing.

"Blaine, I..." I took a deep breath, and subsequently choked on rain, which made Blaine chuckle and broke the tense air. "I'm not sure what to say to that, but I can't think of anything that could have possibly happened to you that would make me not like you," I promised him. It wasn't the most articulate thing I could have said, but I think it got my point across.

"You might not have a very good imagination," Blaine said with a sigh, but he was smiling a little bit. "I know this is difficult for someone as nosy as you are, and don't even deny it, " he cut me off before I could protest, "but please, just give me a little more time."

"I think I can do that," I said with a smile, and I wasn't _entirely_ caught off guard when Blaine pulled me close and kissed me. Okay, that's a lie. I was totally surprised.

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know," Blaine said casually once we parted because of oxygen deprivation. "You might want to be more careful."

"And satisfaction brought it back," I corrected. "Why do people always forget that part?"

"Sorry, stereotypical movie-type kissing in the rain got me a little distracted," Blaine said with a smile, giving me another quick peck.

Needless to say, we didn't go inside for quite a while.

* * *

**A/N: Some sweetness, some drama, and then some more sweetness :) I hope you guys are enjoying and... I don't really have anything else to say here. More next week!**

**Songs mentioned: ...None. Weird.**

**Reviews are Love.**


	5. Gift Giving and Coffee Dates

_Are you a virgin?_

You may be surprised to note that I sent that text rather than received it. Curiosity may have killed the cat, as Blaine frequently liked to remind me, but it hadn't killed me yet, and Blaine had a very... cavalier attitude towards sex- oh, for Pete's sake, Rachel, you don't have to flinch when I say that. Anyway, I was quite expecting the answer I got.

**No**.

_Care to elaborate?_

**Why, Mr. Hummel! What exactly do you want to know? ;)**

_I don't mean... I just... Why do you do this to me?_

**Because it's fun, and I know you're blushing right now. And to answer your question, no, I do not care to elaborate.**

_Is there a reason why?_

**Kurt...**

_Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Patience and indifference. I can manage that_.

**I highly doubt that.**

**Are you?**

_Am I what?_

**A virgin.**

_I'm surprised you have to ask_.

**I'll take that as a no then.**

_Blaine, you were my first kiss. How would it logically make sense that I hadn't kissed anyone, but I had slept with someone?_

**It's possible**.

The excuse Blaine made up following that slightly revealing statement was so lame I don't even want you to read it, but the point was that this was yet another subject in a long list that he wanted to avoid talking about, and all of my questions were beginning to eat at me. How did all of these things fit together and explain the enigma that is my boyfriend? Well, _was_ my boyfriend. Maybe.

Anyway, I was sitting in Spanish the next day when I received a text from Blaine. He knew that this was a class safe to text me in (his teacher didn't care, and Mr. Schuester has always been lenient with the New Directions), and he sent me a rather surprising text.

**This is going to sound completely like a booty call, but I promise it's really not. Will you meet me in the supply closet by Miss Pillsbury's office during lunch?**

It was our first covert meet-up, and I was kind of thrilled about it. I quickly texted back in the affirmative (because while Mr. Schuester is nice, if I get him angry during Spanish he'll take it out on me during Glee club) and spent the next twenty minutes, all that remained between me and lunch, tapping my foot and hating the Spanish-speaking world.

There is no non-sketchy way to enter a supply closet, was the conclusion I came to as I paced back and forth in front of it, drawing some concerned looks from Miss Pillsbury. I had no idea if Blaine was already in there, or what he was planning, or if there was a possibility that there was someone _else_ in there, or multiple someone elses, and... okay, I was thinking about it far too much. The most irrational things about my relationship with Blaine made me nervous.

When I finally opened the door to the supply closet, I was pleased to discover that Blaine was the only occupant, lounging against a set of shelves with a mysterious tote bag in his hands. I cleared my throat to alert him to my presence (he was off in his own little world) and my insides melted when his face lighted up in a smile.

"Hey!" he greeted me enthusiastically, giving me a soft kiss that felt completely, wonderfully casual. "I have a surprise for you."

"I can see that," I said, looking at the tote bag and raising my eyebrows. I had no idea what was in the bag and could think of no motive for Blaine giving me a present. I was stumped.

"This," he said, flourishing the bag about and almost hitting me with it in his usual, graceful way, "is the present I planned to give you on our mensiversary, which we actually spent fighting and pseudo-breaking-up. So, I thought I'd give it to you now. It's a little late but," Blaine shrugged, "no time like the present." He grinned at his pun and I rolled my eyes.

I reached for the tote bag and he batted my hand away. "Uh-uh, one thing at a time." At first I thought that meant Blaine also had something else he wanted to talk about, but then Blaine handed me the first object in the bag, a wrapped CD case. I held it, unsure about un-wrapping it, but Blaine stared at me expectantly until I started to.

"A mix tape," I said when I finally opened it and saw a plain, burnable CD with a track list written on it in Blaine's impeccable cursive. "How cliche," I said with a smile, and Blaine ignored me.

"There's a bunch of Cheerios stuff on there too," he said a little bashfully, but it was very sweet, and I told him so. "Next," he announced, handing me a wrapped box. This one I started opening immediately, but he stopped me. "That thing is wrapped like Fort Knox," he said, a little bit proudly, "so I feel free to inform you that it's that Marc Jacobs cologne you love."

I was kind of shocked. "Blaine, this stuff is _really_ expensive..."

"Don't worry about it," Blaine said with a shrug. "I'm the spoiled, rich delinquent, remember?" he asked with a smile, and for a moment I found myself feeling almost nostalgic about the days when I thought he was a scary, reform-school transfer. They seemed so long ago.

"I still don't want you spending money on me," I argued, but Blaine (very maturely) stuck his tongue out at me.

"I ordered it online, and it's non-refundable, so you might just have to deal with it," Blaine said, handing me the next object in his mystery bag.

"A picture frame?" I asked, because although it was wrapped, it was very clearly a picture frame.

"Open it," he urged, and I did so without questioning his random decisions on what I should open and what I shouldn't. When I ripped the paper off, I let out a dreamy sigh before I could help it. It was a picture of us at Charlie's on our first 'date', when neither of us really wanted to be there, but it was obviously later in the night, because we were both smiling and our plates were mostly empty. "Apparently, Charlie was being creepier than we realized," Blaine said as I stared.

"He really is an excellent matchmaker," I said as I put the picture aside. "We should thank him."

"I already have," he assured me. "About a million times." I kissed him softly, kind of reveling in the fact that I could do so casually. I kissed him because he was being sweet, and also kind of because I really enjoy kissing him, and I was _very_ surprised when he stopped me after a few seconds.

"Wha-" I started to ask.

"As much as I would like to continue this, there's just one more thing in the bag, I promise," he said, digging around and obviously looking for an object at the bottom. I was surprised when he pulled out a plain white envelope and handed it to me. I had barely begun to tear up one side when he stopped me. "Open that one later," he said cryptically.

"So, it's open, don't, open, don't?" I asked, and he grinned.

"It wasn't intentional, I promise. Just... open that one later, okay?"

"Why don't you want me to open it?"

"You can open it if you really want to," Blaine said, but his tone kind of suggested I would be happier with the contents if I opened it later, so I placed it on top of all of my other presents. Blaine was _excellent_ at putting just the right emphasis to twist his words to mean all sorts of things. It was very irking, and one of the things that makes him an excellent Cheerio.

I stared at my little pile, resting on one of the empty shelves. The first present was the obvious one, the cliche, the second unnecessarily expensive, the kind of gift inexperienced guys tended to buy for anniversaries, the third was sentimental, the kind experienced guys bought, and the fourth one was a mystery. These gifts told me a lot about our relationship, but only made me even more confused about Blaine.

Speaking of Blaine, he had been talking. "Earth to Kurt," he teased once he realized I hadn't really been paying attention to him at all. "Come in, Kurt."

"Sorry, I was just..."

"Spacing?" Blaine completed my sentence as usual.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm also sorry to report that I don't have my present for you with me," or at all, but that was beside the point. "You should really give me advanced warnings about ambushing me with gift-giving during lunch." Blaine just smiled at me.

"It's all right," Blaine said gently, and this time he kissed me. It was very... how do I put this? This kiss was much deeper and hornier than our usual kisses, and very... French. Stop judging me. The point is, Blaine's kisses kind of made my world tilt on his axis, and I could very much understand why people made stupid decisions in the kind of position I was in. The song _Heat of the Moment_ made much more sense because, wow, it was heated in that supply closet.

"We," I was eventually the one who pulled away, and the bell for next period had already rung by the time I did, "we should get to class. We wouldn't want to be l-late." I almost managed to get all the way through my sentence without tripping over my own tongue. Almost.

Blaine looked just as winded as I felt, his lips red and shiny, his perfectly-gelled hair mussed, and his Cheerios uniform a little... ruffled. I don't even want to think about what I must have looked like in that moment. "I think we already are," Blaine replied, "but you're right. You can go first, if you want. Just so it doesn't look like we were..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"Doing exactly what we were?" I asked, my face heating up.

"Exactly." At the time, I didn't realize exactly why Blaine didn't want to stand up (and I still can't remember exactly how he ended up sitting down on that sports equipment chest). Now it makes a lot more sense.

I'm still not entirely convinced that a mensiversary is a real thing, but my dilemma at that point was what to get Blaine in return. It was kind of nice to have already opened his presents so I knew at least what kind of gifts to get him... in theory. In reality, Blaine's gift were ridiculously sweet, incredibly confusing, and had still left me completely stymied. We had set a date by text to meet for coffee that Saturday, and I had to have my gift by then, but I had no idea what to get him. So, I asked the only resource that wouldn't tell the world I was asking. No offense.

"What do you get a guy for your anniversary?" I asked Tina on Wednesday, sliding up next to her in the hallway. She appeared to contemplate for a moment before answering me.

"Well, besides the obvious, I have a very odd system," she admitted, and I waited for her to reveal it. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue."

"Isn't that what a bride's supposed to wear to her wedding?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

"That's where the expression comes from, yes, but I've found it works just as well for guys. Something old, meaning something with sentimental or nostalgic value. Something new, some sort of superficial gift, like a video game or something. Something borrowed, meaning something that leaves you open a door. Like, tickets to a show, or something else that would prompt a date. And as for something blue, it always pays to listen to Emily Griffin and get him something a little bit sappy. He'll like it more than he admits." It was very good advice, even if it did sound a little odd at first.

"Just one last question," I promised.

"And then I get to ask you a few?" she asked with a smile.

"Not a chance," I said, shutting down her hopes of asking me why I was asking. "What did you mean by 'besides the obvious'?" I know, I should have known what she meant, but I hadn't really thought about... _that_ yet. Tina gave me a look, and the answer to my own question clicked.

"Oh," I said, trying not to blush and feeling like a little bit of an idiot.

"If you're there," she said with a smile, and thankfully, she didn't ask.

"We're not... _there_." She, thankfully, didn't keep prodding. I wouldn't have had answers if she had.

When I arrived at the Lima Bean on Saturday, I was the one carrying the mysterious tote bag and Blaine was the one raising his eyebrows. "You're copying my mystery," he said casually, seated with two coffees at the table. I just smiled, sitting across from him and taking a sip of my coffee, almost choking on it. Almost immediately, Blaine was around the side of the table, patting my back. "You all right?"

"You remembered my coffee order," I said, surprised, and Blaine gawked at me.

"You really almost choked to death on hot liquid because I actually remembered what to get you?" he asked, and when he put it like that, I kind of sounded like an idiot, but I nodded anyway. Blaine just smiled fondly. "Of course you did," he said as he returned to his side of the table. "So what's in the bag?"

Something old. I pulled the first item out, handing it over. "A mix tape," he said, looking at the CD. "How cliche," he quoted me. "Where are the artists?" I had listed the names of the songs on the disc, but hadn't put the original artist's name.

"You're sitting across from him," I said with a shrug, and Blaine looked completely surprised. "You mentioned you snuck into Glee to hear me sing, so I thought you could go a little less James Bond next time and just listen to that."

"I... wow," Blaine said, smiling. "Point Hummel." I wasn't making this into a competition, so I hoped he was joking.

Something new. I pulled out a plain-looking brown book and handed it to him. "_Soon to Be a Major Motion Picture_," he read off the front, brow furrowed. "By... Jonathan Keates, with an extra 'e'. You remembered."

"Of course I did." Our blind date had been a little over six weeks ago at that point, but as you're obviously very aware, I could still remember everything.

"Impressive," he said, smiling. "And this is one of the ones I haven't read either. Thank you."

"No problem," I said, reaching into my bag again.

Something borrowed. I pulled out a white envelope and handed it to him. "I'm nice, so you can actually open my envelope." Blaine chuckled at that.

"To BreadstiX?" he asked, waving around the gift card. "Is that a suggestion, Mr. Hummel?"

"Maybe," I replied to his teasing tone, pulling out the last item.

Something blue. This object was another envelope, blue just for the sake of following Tina's rules. "Another?" he asked, accepting the envelope.

"Yes, and this is the one you can't open until I tell you to," I teased. The contents of that envelope were intended for a bit later, but I'll get to that. I promise.

"Fair enough," Blaine said, placing the unopened envelope on top of the opened one and then reaching to take my hand on top of the table. "Thank you," he said, his hazel eyes smoldering, and I was admittedly the one glancing around to see if anyone noticed that time. He didn't seem to care.

"You're welcome," I said, squeezing his hand, and Blaine finally stopped staring.

"So, have you opened my envelope yet?" he asked casually, taking a sip of his coffee with his free hand.

"Was I supposed to?" I asked, and Blaine shrugged. "No, I haven't opened it yet."

"Well, then, I guess there goes my topic of conversation," Blaine said with a smile, and I frowned when I saw him glancing up. It was killing me that I had no idea what was going on in his head, and why he acted the way he did about almost everything. "I hate to say this, but I really should go. I have practice in ten minutes, and I need to get back to the school." Blaine had been looking at the _clock_. That explained his open glance, but still didn't change anything.

"Blaine," I said softly, half-hoping he wouldn't hear me, as he let go of my hand and stood up, gathering his coffee cup and bag. Fate was against me (or for me, depending on how you look at it) that day, and Blaine looked at me with a raised eyebrow, obviously having heard my murmur. "I think we should talk." I knew the words were a cliche, but I didn't realize how it would sound until all the blood drained out of Blaine's face almost instantaneously. "No, no, no, I'm not... I don't want to break up," I blurted out. "I mean, a conversation." I took a deep breath. "A serious one," I continued, hoping he would know what I meant.

Oddly, Blaine just smiled at me, placing his bag over his shoulder. "You really should open that envelope," he replied as he walked to throw his coffee cup away. "It might help with your objective." He walked back over to give me a quick kiss on the cheek, and then he left.

I have to admit, the envelope hadn't been at the forefront of my mind as I had been picking out Blaine's present. I hadn't the faintest clue what was in there, but my curiosity had been so focused around Blaine's secrets that I hadn't really pondered the contents of the mystery gift. Now I was _dying_ to know what that envelope contained. That night, I opened it, pulling out a slip of glossy paper, that had the following, typed advertisement on it.

_One awful-homophobic-parent-free weekend at la casa de Anderson, designed for us to spend some alone time together, in which we can do anything we want. Except watch chick flicks. That's just... no. :)_

The coupon was obviously homemade, and kind of sweet. I giggled when I read the fine print at the bottom.

_Reading over this, I realize how ridiculously salacious it sounds. I apologize, this is definitely not intended to sound suggestive or pressurey-ish._

The comment was so Blaine, it was adorable, and it made me sad that I had to ruin what should be a perfect, romantic weekend. I had to know what Blaine's secrets were, and why he seemed to be so sensitive about... everything, really, and I had the feeling he was ready to tell me. That was what it seemed like when he told me to open the envelope.

I texted him the next day.

_So how do I cash in this coupon?_

**You opened the envelope?**

_Yes, sir._

**Good. :) And my parents are out of town this weekend, if you want to come over in a totally chaste way.**

_'Totally chaste'? That doesn't sound very fun._

**You know what I mean.**

_And I would love to spend the weekend at your house. Hmm... what lie shall I tell my father?_

**Oh, you mean telling him that you are going over to a strange boy's house while his parents are away wouldn't end well?**

_It certainly wouldn't end well for you_.

**90 West College Avenue. Are you coming to the pep rally tomorrow?**

_Should I?_

**I would like it if you did :)**

_I'll be there._

I'm not entirely sure if you were at that pep rally. Everyone in Glee club was busy losing their minds over Sectionals and class elections. I was nervous about the presidential race, I'll admit, but I was more nervous about my relationship with Blaine.

Either way, if you were or weren't at that pep rally, you certainly weren't there from my perspective, and it's like watching a Disney movie once you're a teenager. When you know what everything that's going on actually _means_, it's much more interesting.

The night before the pep rally, I looked up Blaine's address on Google Maps, and was pleased to find that he lived in a reasonably-sized (though still very nice) house near Otterbein College, and that Westerville looked like most of Ohio and wasn't a ridiculous town filled with wealthy people.

The day of the pep rally I crowded into the gym with the rest of the over-excited masses. Most of the people there were the kind that tended to pick on me, the jocks and the popular girls who wanted to be associated with the Cheerios. I took a seat as close to the band as possible, and waited for Coach Sylvester's attempts to build the tension to be over. Soon enough, the Cheerios emerged on stage, Blaine at the head with his usual smug smirk. Before, I had found that facial expression quite irritating. Now... it's kind of sexy, to be quite honest.

As any other spectator, I would have thought he was looking out over the crowds to take in the sight of his adoring fans, now I was very suspicious that he was looking for me as the techno beat began. I hadn't noticed before, distracted by my boyfriend, but the Cheerios were wearing slightly modified versions of their normal uniforms. Their skirts were a metallic silver instead of red, the color also making an appearance in their pom-poms, and the white on their tops had been replaced by it. All the red on Blaine's uniform had been replaced by the same silver, leaving him black, white, and silver. It actually looked pretty cool.

The Cheerios began dancing to the beat as Blaine pulled a silver accented microphone out of nowhere, locked eyes with me (I'm not actually sure today that he had spotted me, but at that moment I would have sworn the only people in the room were him), and began singing in a remarkably low voice that send shivers down my spine.

_When did your name change from a word to a charm?  
__No other sound makes the hair stand up on the back of my arm  
__All of the letters push to the front of my mouth  
__And saying your name is somewhere between a prayer and a shout  
__And I can't get it out_

_When did your name change from language to magic?  
__I'd write it again on the back of my hand,  
__And I know it sounds tragic_

Had Blaine chosen the song, or was it coincidence that Coach Sylvester had picked it and Blaine had asked me to come for this very reason? The song made a lot of sense when it was applied to our relationship. Somehow, things had changed between us, from two people that barely acknowledged each others' existence to romantic interests to boyfriends, and even thought it had realistically taken a while, it felt like a whirlwind, and I never quite knew where I stood with Blaine. At that moment, I thought I knew. Boy, was I wrong.

_Now that your name  
__Pumps like the blood in my veins  
__Pulse through my body, igniting my mind  
__It's like MDMA and that's OK_

_Your name's like a drug  
__And I can't get enough  
__And it fits like a glove  
__I'm addicted to your love_

The song had gone on while I was musing, staring at Blaine, and he had turned to join in on the dance, breaking the connection I had so cherished for the beginning, but this was almost better. I got to watch him _dance_. He might be a little bit clumsy in normal life, but the boy could _move_, and Cheerios routines suddenly became one thousand percent more compelling when I was observing exactly what the choreography did for Blaine... but I won't bore you with that.

_I need this exchange  
__I don't care if you think that I'm strange  
__Something happens to me when I hear your voice  
__Something happens to me and I have no choice_

_I need to hear your name  
__Everything feels so strange  
__I'm ready to take this chance  
__I need to dance_

_Feels like a drug  
__And I can't get enough  
__And it fits like a glove  
__I'm addicted to your love_

The song fit perfectly. For some reason, we needed each other to keep ourselves sane, and that was okay. We could be all alone in our own little world, wanting only each other, and keep everything else at bay for now. I just wasn't sure how long that philosophy could last, but it didn't matter. We had fallen for each other, and fallen hard.

* * *

**A/N: Nice little filler chapter. Yes, the event of the story takes place during this weekend at Blaine's house! Are you guys excited? I am!**

**Songs used/mentioned:  
**'_Heat of the Moment_' by Asia (mentioned)  
'_I'm__ Addicted_' by Madonna

**Review are Love.**


	6. Movies and Stories

Blaine's house looked bigger in person than it had on Google Maps. It was imposing, even more so when I was thinking about exactly what I had to do in that very house within the next two days. I went over on Friday night, Blaine assuring me that his parents had been gone since Wednesday and wouldn't be home until the next weekend. I hadn't asked what they were out doing, and Blaine hadn't cared to tell me.

I must have been sitting out there in my car for at least twenty minutes, because he eventually came out to look for me, knocking on my window and scaring the heck out of me. "You all right in there?" he asked when I rolled down my window.

"Yeah, guess I just got distracted," I said before I realized how stupid that would sound. Thankfully, Blaine didn't comment.

"Well, come inside. It's cold out here." It _was_ early December, but it was warm inside my Navigator. Blaine didn't give me much choice, opening my door for me and gesturing very Vanna White style for me to get out of the car.

When we got inside the house (into the ridiculously ostentatious _foyer_ of the house, I should say), Blaine helped me with my coat and scarf and pulled me close. "Hi," he said casually, smiling softly and making the little butterflies in my stomach flutter.

"Hi," I said in reply, having nothing else to say. "I guess we should-" The next word out of my mouth was going to be 'talk,' but Blaine shut me up with a kiss. Several, as a matter of fact.

"Not now, okay?" he asked when he let me breathe. "Not right now. We should just... enjoy our weekend together."

"You make it sound like we wouldn't enjoy our weekend," I commented, my voice just a bit breathy. Blaine smiled ruefully and shook his head.

"How about we eat something?" Another infuriating subject change, but this time I knew that he would tell me why. Even if it wasn't right then, I could let my curiosity go for long enough to enjoy our weekend.

Blaine is an incredible cook, so he made us dinner as I sat in awe and watched him chop and whisk, and discovered a variety of new kitchen utensils that I had never even heard of. And I'd like to think I'm a pretty good cook! "So, what's in the envelope?" he asked as our dinner was in the oven, gesturing to the blue envelope, which was resting conveniently in front of me. I was sitting at the bar in his kitchen and he was leaning against the counter opposite me.

"Now who's the curious one?" I asked, a little happy I could be the one with the secrets this time.

"Me. What's in the envelope?" he asked again, but I just shrugged secretly.

"Not yet," I said.

"_Kurt_," he whined, but I ignored him.

"So, I know the coupon expressly said no chick flicks, but I think we could watch some other movie," I suggested.

"Did you have something in mind?" he asked as our dinner finished cooking and he pulled it out of the oven.

"What do you have?"

Blaine was all for a horror movie, which means he would have been very disappointed when he discovered that I wasn't a wimp, but I managed to convince him, with various uses of my lips, that a romantic comedy would be much better.

"You realize, all romantic comments technically fall into the category of chick-flicks," Blaine said, not sounding too terribly pained as he put How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days in his DVD player.

"And yet you have a whole collection of them," I commented, smiling, because he had more romantic comedies in his DVD collection than I did.

"Would you believe that they're my brother's?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not a chance," I replied, and Blaine huffed.

"Shut up," was his only comeback as he walked over to the couch. I was all cuddled up on one side, expecting him to cuddle up on the other, kind of the way we watch movies, Rach, but instead he wiggled between me and the couch, wrapping an arm around my waist and settling his head on my pillow. I must have tensed or something, because he kissed the back of my neck and asked, "Is this okay?"

"I just... can you see from back there?" I asked. It was weak, and we both knew it.

"I can recite this movie," he replied, and then proceeded to say the first line along with Kate Hudson's co-worker, "And only then will the people of Tajikistan know true and lasting peace."

"Point proven," I said with a chuckle.

"Now, whether or not I can tell if you're uncomfortable is a whole different thing," he murmured in my ear.

"I'm fine," I said honestly. It wasn't like I _minded_ cuddling with Blaine. "You just surprised me."

"Good," he replied, leaning over at an awkward angle to kiss me.

Needless to say, we didn't end up watching much of the movie.

But that's okay, we can both recite it anyway.

We spent the rest of the afternoon 'watching' movies, eating ridiculously fattening food Blaine made for us, and talking about nothing in particular. Blaine kept begging me to tell him what was in the envelope, and I kept refusing. Honestly, it was fun.

Cuddling on the couch had become the standard of the afternoon, but by midnight we were both yawning our way through the last few minutes of 27 Dresses, and we had watched a good portion of our planned stack of romantic comedies. "We should go to bed," Blaine said finally as the credits rolled.

"Probably," I admitted, sitting up from our cocoon of blankets, stretching and mentally noting that my legs had fallen asleep.

"Do you want to shower first?" Blaine asked, and I shrugged. On one hand, yes, I kind of really did. On the other, I took forever to shower and Blaine probably wanted to go to bed. "Well, that's not an answer." Blaine rolled his eyes. "You're the guest, just go use the shower."

"Fine," I said, not in the mood to argue with Blaine, too sleepy and marvelously happy. Blaine grabbed my hand, pulling me up before I could protest that my legs were asleep, and we were both on the ground in seconds. "I'm sorry," I muttered, having fallen on top of Blaine.

"It's okay," he said with a laugh, pushing me off. "It's not like you weigh anything." I was about to argue, but I let it go. From him, it was a compliment. "Were your legs asleep?" I just nodded, Blaine standing up and helping me up slowly this time. "Better?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"It's all right," Blaine said with a smile, kissing me on the cheek. "I'll never object to having you on top of me," he muttered, making my face heat up and then laughing. "Far too easy," was all he said, taking my hand again and leading me upstairs.

"I feel like I could get lost in this house," I said as we ascended not one but two sets of stairs.

"First time my brother invited someone over, he made them a map so they wouldn't," Blaine reminisced with a chuckle. "I would have done the same, but I don't plan to take my eye off you all weekend... and that sounded really creepy," he added as I laughed. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know. Just no watching me sleep," I said as we reached the top floor.

"No promises," Blaine joked solemnly. "So, door on the right is the bathroom, middle door is my room."

"So, I'm sleeping over there?" I asked, pointing to the door on the far left. I didn't realize my faux pas until Blaine hesitated, looking kind of confused and a little hurt.

"Um, if you want to, I guess," he said, shrugging and looking a little downcast.

"No, I meant, I just..." I hadn't even thought of the sleeping arrangements yet. "I wasn't sure if..."

"Kurt, it's your decision," he said with a slightly-forced smile. "You're more than welcome to sleep in my room, or if you'd feel more comfortable in the guest-"

"It's not even a question," I said, feeling like an idiot. "I was just being stupid," I promised, giving him a soft kiss.

"Not stupid, just shy," Blaine said with a smile that looked much more real. "Come on, shower up." Blaine walked into his room as I walked into the bathroom.

Even Blaine's bathroom was ridiculously lavish, and I was feeling completely pampered as I stepped into Blaine's bedroom. Blaine was curled up on his bed, on top of the covers, and he appeared to be completely asleep, relaxed and vulnerable. He was ridiculously adorable sleeping, but he still needed to shower. "Blaine," I murmured, shaking him. "Wake up."

"You take a long time in the bathroom," he said sleepily, so he obviously hadn't been entirely asleep. "You might have mentioned that," he continued as he rolled towards the edge of his bed and almost toppled off it.

"Sorry," I said with a chuckle.

"I'll be right in," he promised me, still sounding only half-lucid, giving me a kiss on the cheek and grabbing his pajamas off the end of the bed as he stumbled out of his room. Blaine's bed was big and warm, and I snuggled up in his sheets of ridiculous thread count (they were even softer than mine) as I waited for him. True to his word, he only took about twenty minutes before walking back into the bedroom, hair a little wet and curly, but looking much more awake.

"Hi," I said, feeling a little shy as he climbed into the other side of the bed.

"Hey there," he said happily. "Sorry I fell asleep, but you were in there for over an hour."

"This takes work," I said, gesturing to myself, but he just chuckled.

"Come here," he said, grabbing one of my gesturing hands and sliding me towards the middle of the bed, cuddling up with me. "I know it's a big bed, but that doesn't mean we have to stare at each other across an endless ravine of sheets."

"Agreed," I said, and we fell asleep cuddled up.

Saturday went much the same way, cuddling and watching all of Blaine's romantic comedies, taking breaks for magnificent food prepared by Blaine and just generally enjoying each others' company. Blaine showered first Saturday night, and he was fast asleep by the time I curled up next to him, but still lucid enough to pull me close and spoon me.

It was Sunday afternoon when I finally decided we had to talk about what this weekend was really about, and judging by Blaine's nervous expression, he knew it was time too. We had just finished Definitely, Maybe, and we sat in silence, knowing the moment had come. "Maybe we should go upstairs," Blaine said quietly, and I agreed. Blaine stalled, putting away all of the DVDs we had watched in their proper places as I watched from the stairs, my seemingly-endless curiosity having suddenly been replaced by nerves. What could be so horrible that every time it was brought up Blaine closed off, even to me?

We walked up the stairs in silence, and we were sitting side by side on Blaine's bed when I finally asked. We were probably only a foot apart, but it felt like miles. "What happened to you at your old school?" I asked finally, silence having stretched between us for far too long.

I shouldn't tell you anything Blaine told me. I really shouldn't. Not only is it far too personal, considering you know him as that bitchy cheerleader who's cruel to everyone. But it's an important part of the story of how we got together, and I'm sure you're dying to know at this point, as I was at this point in the story as it happened, so I'll tell you. Just, keep it between us, all right?

"I was bullied terribly. I've heard some stories of what has happened to you at McKinley, but this was so much worse." Blaine's voice, and the look in his eyes, was far away. "They used to beat me up constantly. The longest I ever went without getting beaten up was a week, and that was because they had broken my ribs the time before, and if they caused me too much hospital-worthy damage, it could become a police matter. Not that the police cared, of course, but my family's wealthy, and they could get in a lot of trouble. They used to play this game, they called it wrestling, after gym, where they would pull the mat out from under my feet so I would fall face first on to it. They used to hold me there, jeering about how I probably liked the gross smell of sweat that the mats exuded because it smelled like 'men', and then they would step on my throat, doing their best to choke me to near-unconsciousness, but not quite there." Blaine was holding his throat, his voice numb, and I was starting to feel close to tears. "I won't... there are some things I don't even want to describe to you," he said, the first time he had acknowledged that he was telling a story, not just reliving all the tortures he had been through. "Between physical torture and psychological warfare, I was near the point of wanting to..." Blaine swallowed and didn't finish his sentence. "And that was just middle school.

"Things changed a little when I went to high school," he continued, still miles and years away. "For one thing, I wasn't the only kid that was out, which didn't stop the torture, but decreased the amount of time they had to spend on me. There were only a few of us, not enough that any sort of coalition could have made a difference, but it made things a little better.

"There was another thing that changed too. Romantic possibilities. Most of us kids that were being picked on became friends, and I met Connor. He was sweet, far too sweet to be surviving at our school. He was... the perfect boyfriend, but he couldn't stand the torment. It was only a few weeks after we had started dating that he asked me to meet him at one of the warehouses on the edge of town. It was the night of a school dance, one that we had planned to go to, but we decided that it really wouldn't be a good idea, so I figured that was his alternative. We usually met up in secret, because my parents aren't accepting and his didn't know. I didn't think anything of it.

"When I got there, Connor wasn't there, but about seven people I knew were. All jocks. They had planned to corner me there. At first, I was concerned for Connor's safety, especially considering I didn't see him but then they told me. They had threatened to kill him unless he convinced me to meet 'him' here. He had been a part of this. I couldn't blame him, though." One single tear streaked down Blaine's face, but he didn't even seem aware of it. "He wasn't strong like I had forced myself to be. He couldn't handle the torture they put us through. The jocks... they beat me within an inch of my life. They broke bones, ribs, my leg, both my collarbones... I don't even remember... The only reason the police didn't investigate was because my cover story worked perfectly. I had been meeting my boyfriend in the warehouse, which only gained me scorned looks that made them unsympathetic, and we went up to the loft section. We had gotten a little involved, and I had fallen off. It explained away every injury I had. I wanted those jocks to pay, but I knew my father wouldn't care, seeing this as my choice, and I knew that the only thing that would happen is retribution. Worse retribution. Fatal retribution." I had been controlling my emotions up to this point, but the image he created made me whimper, and he reached out to take my hand automatically.

"I healed, eventually. Internal bleeding over-complicated things, but I came back to school. The jocks had a tendency to leave me alone until I was fully healed, and part of that might have been that they were surprised to see me. Thy had left me at that warehouse, thinking I was dead. Connor had called the police, and two hours later I was found. But that's not important. That Monday I got back I was prepared to forgive him, if not stay with him, but I discovered that he had transferred, and someone new had replaced him in our gang of outcasts." Blaine's free hand tightened into a fist.

"Aiden looked straight out of a magazine, like someone off a romance novel cover. He wasn't... he wasn't the nicest guy I had ever met, but he treated me okay. The real reason I dated him was that he was big. Strong. Protection. When he was around, the jocks backed off, and when we came out as dating, the jocks mostly left me alone. A few shoves, some muttered comments, punches where they thought he wouldn't see the bruises... it was a thousand times better, and he knew that he was the reason for it.

"As a boyfriend, he was all right, but the real issue was... how to put this. All those bruises the jocks left where they thought he wouldn't see them... he saw them. Frequently. That was the reason he stayed with me, and for a while I was okay with that. I was young, stupid, and equally horny, and I figured I would never go all the way with him, so it didn't really matter. But he wanted to go all the way, and he threatened to break up with me if I didn't sleep with him. I didn't want to, but I couldn't... I couldn't survive high school without him. Not because I loved him, or anything sappy like that, but I couldn't go back to that hell I had lived through middle school, I just couldn't, and I knew it would be worse since they hadn't had a chance to bash me in a while." Blaine looked at me for the first time at this point, his eyes roving over my face, searching for something. Pity? Anger? Jealousy? I wasn't sure. Then it clicked. _Understanding_. He was ashamed of what he had done, and he wanted to know that I didn't think worse of him for it. I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, which was clearly enough for him. "I did it, obviously," he said, turning away from me again, but I wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close and not letting him get too involved in awful memories. "It was awful," he continued, though I hadn't expected him to say anything more on the subject. "He didn't even kiss me." Blaine sighed, resting his head on my shoulder.

"We stayed together, but school didn't remain survivable for long. The end of my sophomore year, the jocks, many of whom were graduating, decided to give me a little gift." Blaine was crying again, not even trying to hide it or wipe away the tears. "They... by the time they were done with me, I could barely drive home, on the verge of passing out. My ribs were bruised, probably several of them were broken, and there was a gash on my head that wasn't exactly helping my vision. I pulled up to my house, ready to collapse and worry about my injuries later, only to hear some sort of outraged shriek from my brother, who denies making that sound to this day. He took me to the hospital and had it out with my parents, and it was decided that I would finish the year through correspondence, and would transfer far away in the fall. My parents picked McKinley over the closer, private school, Dalton, because they didn't want me to become 'sheltered.'" Blaine was crying outright at this point, but his voice didn't falter.

"I couldn't survive another experience like what had happened in Columbus. I just couldn't, so I decided to change me to protect myself. I became a bitch and a Cheerio, and I tried to stay away from everyone, because I couldn't handle the torture of appearing invulnerable. I just couldn't." Blaine had obviously finished his story, but there was nothing I could say to that. I just pulled him closer, him turning on his side and cuddling into my side, still crying. We fell asleep like that.

When I woke up it was about nine o'clock on Monday morning, and there were a number of frantic calls on my cell phone from my father, who was wondering why my weekend at Mercedes' had resulted in her being at school and me not showing up. I made some excuse about not feeling good and how Mrs. Jones had insisted on taking care of me, which thankfully he bought. When I finished my phone call with my father, Blaine was awake and watching me. "Hi," he said finally, his voice scratchy, his eyes red.

"Hi," I replied, putting down my phone and sitting on the bed beside him. "How're you feeling?"

"You make it sound like _I'm_ the sick one," Blaine replied, and when I stared at him quizzically, not getting the reference, he said, "Aren't you the one supposedly not feeling good?"

"Oh, you heard that," I realized when Blaine smiled up at me. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a few minutes. I'm surprised you're still here," Blaine admitted softly, making my heart clench. I leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"There's no reason I would leave," I admitted honestly. "Blaine, just because you've been through a lot in your life, doesn't mean you're a bad person."

"I gave up my virginity for a bodyguard," Blaine said, sounding completely ashamed of himself. I had nothing to say to that.

"That's all behind you now," I said softly. "Now you have me, and the Cheerios, and no one's going to hurt you, Blaine." I stroked his curls softly, making him smile.

"I know that." Blaine finally sat up, coming out from underneath the covers and wrapping an arm around me. "Thank you," he said before kissing me.

I would have been more than happy to continue on like this, but something about Blaine's story was bothering me. "Can I ask you something?" I asked him, pushing him away.

"Does it have to be right now?" Blaine asked in reply, quirking an eyebrow and leaning forward to kiss me again.

"Yes," I said quietly, and Blaine stopped trying to kiss me.

"All right, what is it?" Blaine sounded a little bit annoyed, but he was smiling.

"Why me?" My question obviously wasn't as clear to him as it was to me, because he just raised an eyebrow at me. "Why did you choose to open up to me?"

"You mean besides the fact that I was locked in a kitchen with you for several hours?" Blaine asked with a smile, leaning forward to kiss me again.

"Blaine, I'm serious."

"Okay, okay, but you have to consider this. Do you seriously think I'd never noticed you before Charlie set us up?" Blaine asked, smiling. "You are out-of-this-world, _completely_ out-of-my-league gorgeous, and..." Blaine blushed. "When I told you I had snuck into Glee to see you sing, I didn't mention when. That was _before_ this started, and your voice is... God." Blaine laughed. "I have had such a bad crush on you since the moment that I saw you, and I started to trust you before I had even spoken to you. I had built you up in my head... and you're even better than I could have ever imagined," Blaine said softly.

"I... wow..." This wasn't obvious to you, was it? Because I was completely blind-sided.

"You had never noticed me?"

"The whole raging bitch thing was kind of a turn-off," I said before I could stop myself, and thankfully Blaine cracked up laughing.

"Okay, fair enough," Blaine said with a smile.

"I only started to notice how cute you are on our first date," I answered honestly. You know that's true.

"I trust you, Kurt, and I wanted you to know everything. No more secrets." Blaine kissed me softly.

"No more secrets," I agreed. "Except for what's in that envelope," I said teasingly.

"Tell me!" he exclaimed, frustrated, and I was the one who cracked up laughing that time.

"Nope," I said with a smile, and Blaine sighed.

"You drive me crazy, Kurt Hummel," Blaine swore, "and I am completely crazy about you."

* * *

**A/N: And finally, the story is revealed! What did you guys think? Too dramatic? Not dramatic enough? I had a difficult time coming up with Blaine's story, so I hope you guys... if not _enjoyed_, at least thought it was appropriate.**

**There are no songs in this chapter. Lots of movies though.**

**Reviews are Love.**


	7. Envelopes and Sectionals

"I have good news," I announced to my boyfriend as we sat down for coffee that Wednesday. We hadn't talked the previous day, and I had been nervous that Blaine was withdrawing again, but I was pleased when he had texted me earlier that day and asked me to met him at the Lima Bean.

"Oh, do you?" Blaine asked with a raised eyebrow, handing me my coffee.

"Well, it's good news for you."

"Don't keep me waiting," Blaine said with a smile.

"You get to open-"

"Yes!" Blaine exclaimed before I could finish my sentence. "I have to know," he said, pulling the envelope out of his pocket. I didn't even get a chance to tease him for carrying it around with him before he was tearing the blue paper open. I held my breath, not sure how he would take what's inside. "Sectionals?" he asked, reading the information on the ticket inside.

"I was wondering if you would come to Glee Club Sectionals," I asked shyly. _West Side Story_ was one thing, it being a school performance that included Cheerios. This, too, involved Cheerios, but it was a bigger deal. Only people that actually cared about Glee club showed up to their competitions, even when they were in the April Rhodes Civil Pavilion.

"Kurt, I-" Blaine looked nervous.

"I know it's a... step, but I was thinking that after this weekend-"

"I was going to say that I would love to come," Blaine said quickly, interrupting me interrupting him with a tight smile. "Besides, it's at McKinley this year, right?"

"Yeah, considering two of the competing teams originate at McKinley, it makes sense." Sectionals, as you know, was causing us a lot of stress, but I was convinced that everything would work out, and I wanted to make Blaine proud. "I mean, we've lost our best member, so our performance might not be up to scratch." Yes, I consider you our best member. You don't have to look so proud.

"Kurt, calm down," Blaine said with a smile, and I had the feeling he was trying not to roll his eyes. "I already said I would come, and I meant it. Plus, I do not consider Rachel to be your best member." Do _not_ give me that look, Rachel, he _really_ said that.

"I think you might be a little bit biased," I said as he took my hand, resting our conjoined hands on the table without a twitch or glance.

"Perhaps. The fact that I've never heard Rachel sing might have something to do with it," Blaine said with a shrug, and I gaped at him.

"You've... I know people that would _kill_ to not have heard Rachel sing." I'm sorry. I love you dearly, but you have _so_ many solos.

"Please don't tell them I'm here," Blaine said, acting nervous and making me chuckle.

"All right, all right."

You were at Sectionals, jealous that you weren't on stage and busy arguing with Quinn, but I'm absolutely certain that _everyone_ in the audience who knew anything about the social hierarchy at McKinley, was surprised to see the Head Cheerio sitting in the second tier of seats, flanked by Becky and Marissa.

I have to admit that during the first part of the competition I was entirely distracted by watching Blaine watch the competition. He either hadn't spotted me yet or was pointedly avoiding staring at me, but either way, he wasn't making eye contact. He seemed surprised by the quality of Harmony's voice, which I only noticed after my head had whipped forward to see if it was her, and then back to look at Blaine.

I should have been nervous for our chances, but the only thing I could think was that Blaine had actually showed up just to support me, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. Crap, they were good.

I was actually watching when the Troubletones started to perform, so I jumped about a foot when Blaine whispered from the seat behind me at the chorus. "Is it just me or are they getting the words wrong?"

"Blaine!" I said loudly, garnering several 'shh's from people in the audience, including you.

"Surprise," he said casually, having shushed me himself.

"It's called a mash-up, you mix up two songs with similar themes or words, or that just might sound good together."

"Huh. We might have to steal these."

"Don't even think about it. Mr. Schuester and Coach Sylvester have enough issues without you augmenting their disagreements."

"Fine, fine. They're really talented."

"Thanks for helping with my nerves," I said, because yes, they were excellent, and it was bad enough that _I_ was thinking it. If someone who knew nothing about show choir was saying it, we were screwed.

"You're better," Blaine promised, and I jumped again when he kissed me on the cheek. "You're up, right?" It hadn't even occurred to me yet.

"Yes," was all I could get out through my suddenly choked-up throat.

"Good luck," Blaine said, kissing me on the cheek again.

Blaine had leaned back into the darkness provided by the auditorium by the time you had whispered, "You're on! Go!" Gosh, you're bossy. Also, I can't believe you didn't notice that all of this was going on behind you.

We started out with _ABC_, and I was a little bit excited that I would get to sing some solo pieces in front of my boyfriend. It was the first time I had ever gotten a solo in front of an audience, and he was a member of it.

Pretty much the entirety of the audience was standing up by the time we had reached the section that I was kind of annoyed about, and also a little bit nervous. The stupid 'sexy' section, which was completely your boyfriend and Mike's idea. Thankfully, I only had to do the beginning, and I tried not to think about Blaine sitting there, watching. The fact that Santana laughed in reaction didn't seem like a good thing. I had been kind of annoyed to be in the back row of the guys before, after that, I was glad.

I didn't have any part in the next song, so I did the steps on instinct and kept my eyes on Blaine as Artie and Sam sang _Control_ with the help of a rather crazy Quinn. Blaine had to see the competition in the middle of our team imploding, of course. We had three band members that were debuting, a brand new member who was still a little out of step with the rest of the team, we were missing our best singer, and I was convinced that Quinn had gone crazy.

I was a little annoyed that I wasn't included at all in the number that was centered around the boys, Sam, Artie, Finn, Rory, and Puck. I was both happy and angrier when Blaine's face lit up with the introduction. I was supposed to be facing the other way, but I was peeking. Oh well. I doubt anyone noticed. As soon as the lights went up, I could see that the whole of the theatre had been on their feet, probably since the beginning, and Blaine winked when I caught his eye, the Cheerios to either side of him standing but looking unimpressed.

Blaine texted me to meet him outside in the parking lot, so I rushed out there before the awards were given out, ignoring everyone celebrating and our nervous little show circle. I was starting to realize that no one would notice I was gone, which kind of sucked, but was also kind of nice, considering I was trying to have a secret relationship.

"Hey," I said, approaching the cheerleader, who was leaning on my Navigator.

"Hey," Blaine said, smiling brightly and hugging me. "You were great, as expected."

"Expected by you, maybe," I said, returning the hug.

"Expected by anyone who's ever been graced by your presence." Yes, I know. He's a sap.

"I'm just going to ignore how cheesy that was and say thank you," I replied with a smile.

"You're welcome," Blaine said, kissing me gently. "I particularly liked _Man in the Mirror_," he said after we had caught our breath.

"I know. I saw your face light up."

"I know. You're not as sneaky as you think you are," Blaine said with a smile. "When are the... results, I guess?"

"The judges get some time to deliberate, but it varies. Don't worry, we'll see the lights flicker from out here."  
"Good. Join me," Blaine said, gesturing to the car. I laughed, leaning beside him, and he put his arm around me. "So, that's what show choir is like, huh? I have to admit that I've been curious."

"Thinking about becoming the sixth Cheerio to ever be in our ranks?" I asked, a little excited by the prospect.

"Sixth?" he asked, ignoring my question by asking one of his own. It was one of his little tricks that I had picked up on by now.

"Quinn, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, and I were all Cheerios. You would be number six, if you joined." Blaine sighed, kissing my cheek.

"Maybe. Do you know what today is?" Blaine asked, deflecting again.

"What's today?"

"It's our two-month mensiversary, discounting the week after our one-month mensiversary," Blaine said with a chuckle. All of our little fights about his past seemed so ridiculous now.

"I... actually knew that," I said, surprising him (judging by the look on his face). My present for him was set to arrive today, so hopefully there was an envelope waiting for me at home. I hadn't been there yet today.

"Oh, did you?" Blaine asked, and then rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. You have to make me a promise though."

"Okay," I said uncertainly.

"No more evil envelopes!" he demanded and I cracked up laughing. "I'm not kidding! That last one drove me half-crazy! You can't do that to me again!"

"You did it first!" I objected, but it wasn't very convincing because I was still laughing. "Why did you make me wait to open that anyway?"

"Well, when I made that coupon I kind of had... what we did in mind, and I didn't want you to make that decision right then." Blaine did his best to shrug with one arm trapped between me and the car. "Besides, you could have opened that envelope the next class period if you had wanted to. What you did was _pure evil_." I laughed.

"Maybe, but I wasn't sure you would say yes."

"I would have," Blaine assured me, and I was about to argue about how defensive he always was when we were immersed in total darkness for a second before the lights flicked back on.

"And I believe that is my cue." Blaine smiled, giving me a quick kiss.

"Good luck. You guys deserve this." I walked in first, Blaine probably lingering to find his entourage, who were flirting with some of the guys from the Unitards.

As you know, we won, the devastated Troubletones coming in second, and the oddly-smug Unitards coming in last. Everyone was cheering and hugging each other as we won, you sitting in the audience looking pained. The part about winning that was best for me, however pathetic it may make me, is that Blaine looked so proud, smiling and waving. When I waved back, you waved at me, assuming I was waving at you. Just so you know, I wasn't.

I didn't get to see Blaine after the competition, but I was relieved when my present for Blaine was waiting on my desk when I got home, with an inquisitive note from my father attached to it. We had decided by text to meet at Blaine's house to exchange gifts, which was a long drive for me, but worth it. Besides, it was Sunday, I had nothing better to do.

"Oh no," Blaine said as soon as I stepped inside the door. I thought he was joking at first, but his face looked legitimately horrified. I was about to ask when he continued, "Not another freakin' envelope," and I practically fell over laughing.

"Except I want you to open this one," I said with a smile, and he wiped his brow in relief.

"Good. Can I open it now?" Blaine asked, helping me with my coat and simultaneously gabbing the envelope from my hand.

"If you insist," I said with a smile. Blaine tore open the white envelope eagerly and made a noise I didn't know humans could make when he saw the contents.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" he squeaked, grabbing me and hugging me.

"I'm sorry, but when exactly did you become a teenage girl?" I asked as he squeezed the life out of me.

"When you gave me these!" he squeaked, waving the envelope and the tickets inside around. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"All right, I think you're a little _too_ excited," I said with a smile. I was genuinely enjoying how surprised and excited Blaine was. That was my intent.

"Wait... the second one is for you, right?" Blaine asked, all the excitement suddenly gone from his demeanor.

"I mean... it doesn't _have_ to be for me..." I hedged, confused.

"You hate Katy Perry."

"I'm willing to sit through two and a half hours of auditory torment for you." Not a word. Not. A. Word. Blaine grabbed me, once again excited, hugging me to him and kissing me.

"Thank you," he said when he let me go. "Just... thank you."

"You're welcome," I promised him, giving him a quick kiss.

"Okay, you have to close your eyes. I couldn't figure out a way to wrap your present." That made me suspicious, but I closed my eyes anyway. Blaine took my hand. "Come with me." As if I had a choice. Blaine led me... actually, I had no idea where he was leading me. Regardless, he made sure I didn't bump into anything. We hadn't gone upstairs and I was beginning to wonder if Blaine was leading me in circles when he said, "Open your eyes."

The coat in the open garment bag hanging in Blaine's... sunroom, I guess, was absolutely gorgeous. I recognized it immediately as the latest Armani Caban Jacket, and I gaped at it. "Blaine..."

"Happy anniversary," Blaine said, kissing me on the cheek.

"Blaine, this is a two thousand dollar coat," I said as if he weren't aware of the price.

"I know," Blaine said, walking forward to pull it off the hanger. "What I don't know is: do you like it?"

"Blaine, I can't accept this," I said, still staring at the gorgeous coat dumbfounded.

"Why not?" Blaine asked, eyebrows creasing and voice sounding hurt.

"It's a _two thousand dollar coat_!" I said, making Blaine jerk in surprise.

"Kurt, we've talked about this. Money isn't important, at least it isn't to me. I know how much you like designer clothes, and I wanted you to have this. So, accept it," Blaine said, putting the coat around my shoulders as he did so, and I didn't have the willpower not to put my arms through and look at myself in the mirror.

"Wow."

"Gorgeous," Blaine agreed.

"Blaine, this coat is..."

"I wasn't talking about the coat," Blaine said with a smile, giving me another kiss on the cheek. He seemed to be obsessed with doing that.

"You're such a sap." We were all thinking it.

"I know," Blaine said with a shrug, "but I mean every word. And you look great in your coat."

"You're not going to give up on this, are you?" I asked, knowing an argument approaching when I saw one.

"Nope. Just accept the coat. It's a gift, and it looks good on you. As I knew it would." Blaine helped me take the coat off and placed it back in the garment bag. "Then again, everything looks good on you. And don't think you'll get away with 'forgetting' it when you head home," he said as I eyed the garment bag. "Not a chance, Hummel."

"All right, all right," I said with a laugh, giving my boyfriend a kiss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We ended up watching movies in his room, using his computer and Netflix as a makeshift TV. Not that there aren't plenty of TVs in Blaine's house, but Blaine's bed was ridiculously comfortable. And I'm sure you know what I mean by watching TV.

The reason I'm telling you this particular part of the story is because it had further consequences, and is an important part of the saga. So, just bear with me. Blaine and I had never discussed... _that_ beyond our brief conversations about Blaine's virginity... or lack thereof. Blaine is the perfect boyfriend in that respect. So, I was completely surprised when we were... busy, and one of his hands slid down to my ass while the other started working open the top button of my shirt.

"Blaine, what are you doing?" I asked, probably pretty breathily.

"What do you mean?" he asked, detaching his lips from where they had been pretty busy on the side of my neck.

"I... You're..." I grabbed his hand, pulling it off the front of my shirt and pushing him away at the same time.

"Kurt..." he sounded a little bewildered, which was completely unfair.

"I should... my parents will be worried, I should go."

Okay, I freaked out a little. I wasn't expecting it, and I wasn't sure how exactly to tell Blaine 'no'. It wasn't an issue I had ever been faced with before... anyway, there is an important aspect to this story.

I was surprised to see my father home when I arrived back in Lima, so I just walked very casually up to him and gave him a hug. "Hey, Dad, how was Washington?" You should know how much he's been away lately. You and Finn take advantage of it all the time.

"Fine," my dad said, staring at my neck suspiciously. It took me _far_ too long to realize what he was looking at, my hand flying to the side of my neck once I did. "Where have you been?"

"I was... at Rachel's..." I said lamely, as if he was actually going to buy that with the hickey on my neck.

"You wanna try telling me where you really were?" my dad asked, thoroughly unimpressed with my lame excuse.

"I was at my boyfriend's house," I admitted, feeling incredibly guilty all of the sudden that I hadn't told my father anything about Blaine.

"Does this boyfriend have a _name_?" Dad asked, still looking at where my hand was covering the mark Blaine had left on my neck.

"Blaine Anderson."

"Well, you can tell Blaine Anderson, number one, how to respect you-"

"Dad-

"And number two, that he will be the special guest at Friday Night Dinner this week, which I assure you I will be here for." My father's tone brooked no argument. How the hell was I supposed to explain this to Blaine, who not only wanted us to be secret, but also didn't like parents very much because of his own?

"I... okay," I said with a sigh, heading upstairs to cover up my new hickey before my dad could say anything else.

"Kurt," his voice stopped me, and I turned half-way up the stairs to face him. "Does this Blaine kid make you happy?"

"Very," I said, because it was true.

"Good." I started back up the stairs, only to hear my dad mutter. "I won't have to shoot him then."

"Dad!"

The next day was our last day of school before vacation. I still think it's stupid that they made us come in on Monday instead of just giving us the entire week, but I went to school anyway. It was better than facing my father's disapproving expressions and Finn's confusion. Blaine texted me first period.

**Kurt, I am *so* sorry about what happened last night. I just got a little... carried away, and I didn't mean to freak you out, or upset you, or pressure you at all, and I couldn't even sleep I felt so awful about what happened. You mean the world to me, Kurt, and sex doesn't even matter to me, you know that, I mean, I would never want to do to you what Aiden did to me, and I can't even believe... I am so sorry, Kurt, there aren't even words**.

_I wish you had said that to me in person so I could have interrupted you about halfway through that little speech. Don't *ever* compare yourself to that... asshole who practically *raped* you, Blaine. You're nothing like that, and you didn't freak me out, or upset me, or pressure me. You just... surprised me, a little. Or a lot. And I'm sorry I kind of freaked out and ran away._

**No, it's fine. I shouldn't have tried to... that was completely out of line. I'm glad that you're okay. That *we're* okay.**

_We're better than okay :) And maybe it wasn't... completely out of line, but that's a conversation we need to have at another time._

**Why is that?**

_Number one, because I won't be able to get through this conversation without turning bright red, and that would... make people suspicious_.

**You almost made a really bad pun. I was so excited**.

_Shut up. Number two, we have a much bigger problem_.

**Which is?**

_You kind of gave me a bit of a..._

**Hickey? Though I see another joke I could make here.**

_*Blaine!*_

**Sorry. So, a hickey?**

_Exactly, and unfortunately, my father was home for the first time in at least a week, and I didn't realize that it was there, and he noticed and... he wants to meet you_.

**Oh**.

_I know how you feel about parents, especially yours, but my dad is very supportive and he's important to me. He wants you to come over for dinner on Friday._

**Will Finn be there?**

_Yes... He is my brother, as annoying as I find that fact some days_.

**Kurt... I... I can't. You know I can't, I'm sorry**.

_Blaine, I... please. Just *please*. This is important to me._

_I'll tell Finn, about us, about the fact that we're a secret. He's my brother, he'll understand, and he'll agree to keep this a secret for me. I promise. I won't tell him about your past, that's none of his business, but I'll impress upon him how important this is. Please, Blaine_.

**Okay. I'll do it.**

_Great. Friday, 5'oclock, my house_.

**See you there**.

My next task in arranging this Friday Night Dinner, which I hoped at that point would go well, was to convince your idiotic boyfriend of exactly how important it is that Blaine and I remain a secret, for no reason that I could actually tell him. I wasn't optimistic.

"Finn, can I talk to you?" I asked him that night, Finn hanging out in front of the TV, killing zombies.

"Yeah, sure." I sat down next to Finn as he continued to kill zombies. "What's up, dude?" he asked, pausing the game when he saw my face.

"My boyfriend is coming to Friday Night Dinner," I said, trying to get the worst of it over, and Finn's expression would have been _priceless_ if I weren't so nervous about how this conversation was going to go.

"You have a boyfriend? What, wait, when did this..." Finn was completely confused. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, a little bit hurt.

"I haven't told anyone, Finn, and you'll understand why, maybe, when I tell you who it is." Finn didn't ask, he just waited expectantly. "Blaine Anderson." Another priceless facial expression.

"The Cheerio? Like, the one who's mean to everyone? Why would you date that guy?" Finn didn't sound angry or hurt anymore, just concerned.

"Finn, I know he seems like an awful person, but he's not. I... I wouldn't expect you to understand," I continued before Finn could object, "because I know how he treats people at school, but he's not like that with me. He's sweet and romantic and..." Finn appeared to be zoning out, so I changed the subject. "The point is, he's my boyfriend, and I really like him."

"So why haven't you told anyone then?" Finn asked, and this was going to be the difficult part.

"Finn, Blaine has a lot of... past," I decided on, "and he's been through a lot in his life, more than me, even." Finn seemed to think my life was the epitome of gay-bashing. "The idea of being in an open relationship scares him, and even if that wasn't true, exactly how easy do you think it would be for us to be out in the open together? Would I love to be together with him openly? Of course, but the reality is that this is better for both of us."

"But if he loves you and stuff, wouldn't he want everyone to know that you're his? Like, it would piss me off if people thought that Rachel was single."

"Number one, I didn't say anything about love." I ignored Finn's expression and the beginning of his protest. "Number two, it's not exactly like he has a lot of competition at McKinley."

"Still doesn't make any sense," Finn argued.

"Please, Finn, just please, don't tell anyone," I practically begged.

"Dude, of course not! I mean, whatever, it just doesn't seem very fair to you." That wasn't something I had ever considered, but it didn't matter at this point.

"Thanks, Finn," I said with a sigh, leaning back against the couch.

"Is he nervous about meeting Papa Burt?" Finn asked with a laugh, turning his zombies back on and resuming play.

"I don't know, he didn't say. He was just worried about you knowing about us."

"Wow, secretive much?" Finn asked with an unimpressed snort.

"It's not like that, Finn. He just... he's been through hell, and he has difficulties being vulnerable with people." I was probably telling Finn too much, but I didn't want my brother to think badly of Blaine because of his school reputation.

"Whatever, dude, as long as he treats you right."

"Thanks, Finn," I said, touched by his brotherly concern, leaning over to kiss my brother on the forehead.

* * *

**A/N: Much less drama this chapter. Lots of cuteness, though, and a little bit of set-up. I'm glad you guys... I feel like 'liked' is a bad word, but lacking a better one... liked last chapter, and I hope you like this one as well. I almost forgot to post today (it's been a busy day), so feel grateful. Umm... did I want to say anything else? Nope, I don't think so.**

**Songs mentioned:  
**'_ABC_' by the Jackson 5  
'_Control_' by Michael & Janet Jackson  
'_Man in the Mirror_' by Michael Jackson

**Review are Love.**


	8. Friday Night Dinners and Skating

**A/N: I know I don't usually leave top notes on this story, but I do have to apologize that it's been two weeks since I last posted. Unfortunately, I left last Saturday for a business trip without my personal computer, and I forgot to post before I left. I have been away from my beloved keyboard pretty much since then, so... yeah. Sorry. Read On.**

* * *

I don't know who was more nervous about dinner that Friday, me or Blaine. I waited outside on the steps, despite the biting cold of late December, so that I could talk to my boyfriend before my father scared him half to death. When the truck Blaine drove out of Columbus pulled up, I stood, waving to my boyfriend, who immediately got out of the car and half-ran over to me.

"Kurt, what are you doing? It's freezing out here!" Blaine objected, pulling me close and rubbing at my back.

"Blaine! Blaine, I'm fine," I insisted, pushing him away a little so that we could actually talk. Blaine kept insistently rubbing my admittedly cold arms, looking ridiculously concerned. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'll be fine providing you don't freeze to death!" Blaine exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"I won't. Are you nervous?" I asked, the thought not even having occurred to me until Finn had brought it up.

"A little, but I think I'll survive. Shall we go in?" Blaine asked, and I nodded, giving my boyfriend a quick kiss before the door opened.

"You must be Blaine," my dad said coldly as Blaine dropped my arms like they burned his hands.

"Blaine Anderson, pleased to meet you, sir," Blaine replied, but it wasn't the earnest, slightly-nervous tone I had been expecting. His tone was composed and completely smooth.

"Come inside, both of you," my dad stepped out of the doorway, allowing us both into the house. I reached to take my boyfriend's hand, but he twisted his arm away.

"Hey, sweetie," Carole said, grabbing me and kissing my cold cheek. "Go set the table, I'll fetch your brother." The word 'step-brother' had never crossed Carole's lips. She firmly believed Finn and I to be as strong as blood.

I'm still not entirely sure what happened in the living room while I was setting the table. I've never asked Blaine, and he's never offered the information. I set the table obediently, and Carole was the only one who joined me in the kitchen. It frustrated me that despite the open, tiny amount of distance between the kitchen and the living room, I still couldn't hear them.

When I walked out into the living room to fetch the boys, Dad and Finn were sitting on the couch, staring down a completely serene Blaine. I recognized the expression, it was the way Blaine looked when he had closed himself off. I had seen it far too many times. "If you three are quite done in here," I said casually, "dinner is served." Finn was off the couch in a flash, Dad and Blaine followed him. I pulled Blaine aside by the arm before he could sit down at the table, whispering to him. "Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Blaine replied at a normal volume with a not-very-convincing smile, stroking my cheek gently before gesturing me towards the table.

"I should have thought to ask you if you have any allergies, Blaine, but frankly the thought didn't even cross my mind-" Carole began blabbing immediately. I had officially decided: she was the most nervous.

"Mrs. Hummel, it's fine," Blaine said smoothly, but not particularly kindly. "I'm not allergic to anything, and dinner looks delightful." Carole seemed a little shocked by Blaine's aloof act, but smiled at him and started to serve dinner.

"So, Blaine, you're a cheerleader?" Dad asked, but he did not sound impressed with Blaine or his chosen sport.

"Yes, sir, captain of the McKinley High Cheerios." Color Dad unimpressed.

"The Cheerios are really good," Finn volunteered helpfully, but he didn't look particularly charitable towards Blaine either. "Quinn, Santana, and Brittany are Cheerios. Kurt was one. So was Mercedes." It was the most forced conversation that had ever happened at family dinner, and it had barely started.

"Interesting. And you came to McKinley just this year, right?" Carole said.

"Yes, I transferred from Beechcroft High, in Columbus," Blaine offered. "And dinner is delicious, Mrs. Hummel."

"Oh, thank you, sweetie. And please, call me Carole." Dad and Finn exchanged looks.

"Why'd you transfer?" Dad asked, and I stepped on his foot under the table.

"Dad," I hissed, but Blaine appeared to have an answer prepared.

"My father wanted me to have a sense of independence before college, so that the change wouldn't be so dramatic. He decided that going to school away from home would be a good intermediate step, even though the commute is kind of a pain." Blaine's face was completely solemn. It was a good lie, which only worried me more.

"That's interesting," Dad said coolly, but he knew Blaine was lying. Everyone at the table knew Blaine was lying.

"How do you like McKinley?" Carole asked sweetly, but I could tell that even she was getting annoyed with Blaine's... lack of personality.

"It's much better than Beechcroft." At least that was honest. "The kids are much friendlier." Dad and Carole exchanged looks. It was the first time they had ever heard the McKinley kids being described as 'friendly'. I have described them as almost every adjective I can think of that's the opposite of 'friendly'.

"Glad to hear it," Dad said sourly.

I won't bore you with the rest of the conversation during dinner because I can sum it up pretty accurately. It was stilted, awkward, and mostly lies on Blaine's part. Long story short, I was _not_ impressed with my boyfriend.

I didn't walk him out to his car, and his goodbye to me was curt at best. He didn't even hug me. I could understand not kissing me in front of my father, but... whatever. The point is, when I turned around from watching Blaine's truck walk away, I was staring at three extremely disapproving faces. I don't think I've ever seen Carole not like someone before.

"I don't like him," Dad announced, as if it wasn't obvious from his demeanor during dinner or his expression at the moment. "Carole, Finn, may I have a moment with my son?" It wasn't really a question, and Carole shepherded Finn upstairs. "Come sit, kiddo," my dad ordered, sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him.

"I know you don't like what you saw," I began as I sat down next to my dad, "but I swear that's not what Blaine's usually like, not who he usually _is_. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"I'm not entirely sure what to believe at this point, buddy. First you told me you don't have a boyfriend, and now you're saying you do. I meet him, dislike him, and now you're saying he's not really an idiot who has an attitude and doesn't deserve you." And this is what I got for lying. Well, I had only told my dad I didn't have a boyfriend once, and that _was_ when I was pretty certain we were broken up. So, it wasn't a _lie_, but I didn't feel like explaining all of that. Dad would only dislike Blaine more.

"Dad, I know it's hard to believe, but that's not Blaine. _I_ didn't even like the boy I saw at dinner tonight, and he's not my boyfriend. Blaine is the _sweetest_ person... maybe he was just scared?" I offered, but it was weak and I knew it. Why the hell had Blaine acted like that?

Dad appeared to consider that for a moment, before sighing and readjusting his baseball cap. "Yeah, okay. Just remember that you shouldn't let any guy treat you the way he just did. _Ever_. 'K, kiddo?"

"Yeah, I know, Dad." I rested my head against my dad's shoulder.

"I thought I would like him," Dad admitted. "He seemed fine out in the driveway, if a bit of a worrywart." I laughed at that. Blaine can be that way.

"You were watching that?" Dad nodded. "That's how he usually is," I promised my dad.

I was a little surprised when the next thing Dad said was, "Love you, kiddo." He said it so rarely.

"Love you too, Dad."

"Get to bed."

The next day was Christmas Eve Day, so I didn't get the chance to confront Blaine until Finn and I were sent to bed, after we had opened our one present. Neither of us were actually going to sleep; it sounded like Finn was calling you, so I decided to call Blaine. I was a little bit surprised when he picked up on the first ring, not saying anything.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded, and Blaine's sigh came through as a rush of static.

"_Kurt..._" Blaine didn't seem inclined to say anything else.

"Seriously, Blaine, what happened? You told me you weren't even really nervous, and then you went and acted like... I don't even know what that was!" I was trying really hard not to yell at him, but I was upset. They were my family, I loved them, and I wanted them to like him.

"_Kurt, I know I shouldn't have shut your family out, and I'm sorry. I just... I don't really know what to do with the whole concept of family. I mean, I have one, but they're kind of awful and no one likes each other._" I sighed. It was starting to feel like Blaine had an excuse for everything, and I was a little tired of it.

"Why didn't you just try acting _normal_? They would have loved you if you had been yourself, but now they think you're a total... I don't even know what, and I'm pretty sure Carole and Finn are in favor of me dumping you." That was perhaps a little harsh, judging by the sudden intake of breath on Blaine's end.

"_Is that... is that what this is?_" Blaine asked, his voice cracking. Okay, maybe that was a _lot_ harsh.

"What- No! No, Blaine, I'm not breaking up with you, okay?" I assured him gently. "I just... What happened? Be honest with me, what happened?"

"_It... it felt like the walls were closing in on me. In addition to the stress of meeting a boyfriend's father,_" he didn't elaborate on whether or not he's had that particular experience before, "_was the fact that, for the first time since... this started, everyone in the room knew. I know that sounds crazy, but I was just a little... overwhelmed, I guess, and you know that I shut down when I'm overwhelmed. I've shut you out enough times before._"

"True," I said with a chuckle. "Would you be willing to try again, next Friday?"

"_I... I'm not sure it would be any better, Kurt_," Blaine admitted, sounding a little bashful.

"How about this: dinner, next Friday night, just you, me, and my dad? My step-mother is inclined to love everyone, and Finn trusts me to make good decisions for myself. Well, that's not exactly true, but it's not like he makes better decisions anyway. My dad is the only person who's really skeptical. Do you think you could handle that?"

"_Yeah. Of course. I would do anything for you, Kurt_," Blaine said after a slight pause and I melted. A lot. I'm not ashamed to admit it.

"I... I don't have anything to say to that," I stuttered, making Blaine laugh.

"_Merry Christmas, Kurt,_" Blaine said, and it sounded like he was smiling. I looked over at the clock next to my bed. 12:01, Christmas morning.

"Merry Christmas, Blaine."

"_Any chance of me seeing you later today?_" Blaine asked, sounding hopeful.

"I don't think so," I admitted. "Christmas is very much a family thing, and my family's not exactly feeling very inclusive of you right now."

"_Understandably,_" Blaine said with a sigh. "_I really am sorry._"

"I know. How about tomorrow? We can meet up at the skating rink at like eight, if you're okay with that, but _no_ presents!"

"_No presents?_" Blaine asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

"We just exchanged presents for our two-month mensi... whatever, I think we should hold off on the Christmas presents." Blaine sighed.

"_All right. And it's mensiversary, dummy,_" he teased. "_And what do you mean, if I'm okay with that? You make it sound like I don't want to be seen with you in public._" Blaine sounded pretty hurt.

"I didn't think you did," I said, a little coldly. Almost everything in our relationship was resolved... except for the fact that my family hates him and we're in the closet.

"_I told you that if this turned into something serious, we would reconsider. You don't qualify this as something serious?_" Blaine asked, slightly accusatory. "_I mean, we've spent plenty of time together in public since we made that decision, and there's a good chance that some people know already._"

"No, I do, I just... I had forgotten about that, to be honest." Laugh it up, Rachel. So I forgot _one_ detail. At least I remembered it for the re-telling. I think.

"_Well, we'll talk about it_," Blaine said, his tone returned to optimistic and happy. "_Meanwhile, I'll see you at the skating rink tomorrow, and we should both get some sleep_."

"Deal. Goodnight, Blaine."

"_Sweet dreams, beautiful._"

Christmas with the family was fun, but uneventful. Nobody mentioned the disaster that had been Blaine's introduction to the Hummel-Hudson clan, probably at Dad's request. I spent most of Christmas day-dreaming about the 26th and thinking over what Blaine had said about us reconsidering. What did that mean?

Blaine was standing outside the skating rink the next day bright and early. We had agreed to meet at eight, so I was rubbing my eyes and drinking my second coffee, and Blaine was bright-eyed and cheery. Worst of all, he was holding a wrapped gift.

"I know, I'm _sorry_!" he said when he saw my betrayed expression, not sounding particularly repentant."But I had to. Merry Christmas." Blaine leaned forward to give me a quick kiss before handing me the red gift with the white bow. It looked like a present right off a magazine cover.

"I feel bad," I said as I opened the gift. "I didn't get you anything."

"To be fair, I didn't _get_ you anything either," Blaine said mysteriously, and when I looked at him quizzically, he gestured for me to continue opening the gift. Inside the box was a gorgeous, knitted scarf, in different shades of red, that was one hundred percent my style, and nothing I had ever seen before.

"Where did you get this?" I said, holding it up and admiring it. It even looked perfect with the outfit I was wearing right then, and Blaine was clearly having the same thought, as he wrapped it around my neck, using it as leverage to pull me into another, less chaste, kiss. "I shouldn't accept this, you know. You have this habit of spending far too much money on me."

"Who said anything about spending money?" Blaine said. Again with the mystery, and this time I gave him a very pointed look. "I made it, dummy." I gaped at my boyfriend, the apparently-homemade scarf still wrapped around my neck. "You look like a cartoon character," he observed as he waited for me to say something.

"You... oh my God," I said, trying to act annoyed but not able to stop the smile from spreading across my face. "You are..." I couldn't even find words. It was ridiculously sweet, and it made me feel even worse about not having gotten him anything. "Thank you," I decided on, making him laugh.

"You're welcome," he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "So, how are you on the ice?" he asked with a wicked grin.

"Oh no," I said, eyes widening. "You don't seriously expect me to go into that death trap, do you?" I asked, pointing at the rink behind Blaine.

"I mean, the building's a little rickety, but..." Blaine said, stepping back to observe the rather shoddy building that housed the Lima Recreational Skating Rink.

"I'm not talking about the building!" I objected. "I can dance, I can sing, I can cheer, I can play football, but _under no circumstances_ can I skate."

"I'll teach you," Blaine insisted, grabbing my hand and dragging me into my doom. "Consider this morning your Christmas gift to me."

"I hate you so much right now," I said as he grabbed us spots in the free skate (he had planned this. That bastard. He didn't even let me pay for my own ticket down the River Styx).

"We'll have fun, come on," he insisted, pulling me over to get skates. _Used_ skates. Gross.

Blaine succeeded in dragging me on the ice by being extremely cute, and I found myself much worse at skating when he was the one in charge of catching me, which he eventually figured out, threatening to drop me if I kept doing that. He didn't seem concerned by the number of people skating around us (none were really our age, but still), and some that were even watching us. He only tensed up once, when we heard the tail end of a derogatory comment, but he managed to ignore it. By the time we finished skating, I had about twenty bruises that were forming on my butt and back, and Blaine probably had just as many from me dragging him down alongside me. It was extremely fun.

I got to see Blaine again the next day, except I had officially forbid hazardous activity of any kind once I had changed into my pajamas that night and discovered I had closer to _fifty_ bruises, so we simply went out to get coffee.

"You can't deny that it was fun," Blaine said as we stood in line. It was the first time he hadn't beaten me to the Lima Bean, so we were waiting in line for our coffees together.

"During, yes. After, it was pretty painful." Blaine snorted. I didn't get the joke then, so I just ignored it.

"Regardless, you had fun." I couldn't argue with that and he knew it. "Medium drip for me and a grande nonfat mocha for my boyfriend," Blaine said absentmindedly to the barista, still staring me down.

"Blaine, you do realize..." I said, looking around the coffee shop, and he rolled his eyes.

"There's no one here, Kurt. This place is too far away from McKinley to actually be a hang out place for anyone but us," Blaine pointed out, and it was true. I had never heard of anyone else visiting our favorite coffee shop. We moved over to wait for our coffees, and Blaine began tapping his fingers on the counter.

"Something on your mind?" I asked him, placing my hand over his to stop him from tapping. The people working at the cafe would think he was rude.

"Do you really think your dad will like me?" Blaine asked earnestly, and I sighed, smiling at my nervous boyfriend.

"Yes. I think he'll be completely enamored with you, considering you are the sweetest boyfriend of all time," I said honestly, and that made Blaine smile.

"Okay, I guess I'll have to believe you. Just out of curiosity, does he own a gun?"

"You don't want me to answer that," I replied as I grabbed out coffees.

Blaine was like that all week, fidgety and distracted, constantly worrying about Friday and meeting my dad, take two. I got to see him almost every day, which was a nice change, despite the fact that I was constantly having to reassure him that my dad wouldn't shoot him or convince me to break up with him.

I didn't wait outside to greet him that Friday, because it was snowing and extremely cold. Dad had agreed to wait in the kitchen so I could talk to Blaine before he had to face my father for the second time. Blaine's truck pulled up ten minutes before he was expected, and I opened the door before Blaine had the chance to knock.

"Good, you're not freezing your butt off this time," Blaine said with a smile, pulling me close and giving me a chaste kiss. "Where's your dad?"

"In the kitchen." There was a slight possibility that Dad could hear us, considering there was no wall between Blaine and I and him, but that wasn't important. Dad wouldn't eavesdrop unless he considered it necessary.

"And you promise all his guns are in the garage?" Blaine asked, only the fourth time he had asked me that question that week.

"I promise." Not that my dad couldn't kill Blaine with his bare hands, but that was beside the point. "You okay?" I asked him softly, and he smiled, stroking my cheek gently and nodding. "No more shutting my family out, all right. They _want_ to like you," I promised him.

"I'll believe that when I see it," Blaine said softly, giving me one more quick kiss before taking my hand and leading me into the living room and kitchen area. He squeezed my hand rather tightly when he saw my father, sitting at the table and looking unimpressed. "Hello, Mr. Hummel," he said, and he sounded nervous this time. "It's nice to see you again."

"Likewise," Dad said coldly. "Kurt, is dinner almost ready?"

"It'll be ready in five minutes." I had planned to be early with the dinner so that I didn't have to leave my boyfriend and father alone, but Blaine was earlier than I expected him to be. I should have warned him.

"Mr. Hummel, sir, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted last Friday," Blaine said apologetically as he sat down across from Dad. "My attitude was completely inexcusable."

Dad sighed, adjusting his baseball cap. "It's all right, kid. If you had made a good first impression, I would have been even more worried." Blaine opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words. "You look like a fish, kid."

"_Dad_," I protested, and Dad just chuckled.

"Am I the only one who can hear the silent 'behave' he always puts at the end there?" Dad asked Blaine, who laughed hesitantly, looking at my back to make sure I wasn't offended. "Ah, now you have to deal with the fateful question. Who are you trying to impress more: your boyfriend or your boyfriend's father? Who should you be more afraid of?"

"Me," I said decisively, giving Blaine his food and kissing him on the cheek. "You should definitely be more afraid of me."

"Agreed," Dad said with a chuckle. "How was your Christmas, Anderson?"

"Fine," Blaine said, making me a little nervous that he was shutting my father out again. "My family's not big on holidays, but we had some fun." Blaine sounded uncertain and nervous and I absolutely _adored_ him for it.

"Glad to hear it. You want something to drink?" I was surprised my father had asked, and so was Blaine by the look on his face.

"I can..."

"No, no, sit. Kurt, get Blaine a beer out of the fridge." I stared at my father in shock, but he gestured for me to go to the refrigerator with a hint of a smile. He was testing Blaine.

"Sir, I really don't drink..." Blaine protested as I placed the beer in front of him. Dad shrugged.

"It's there if you want it." I rolled my eyes. How clichéd.

"Dinner's all set," I said, placing a plate at my place and in front of Dad, sitting at the table myself. Blaine reached for my hand again, under the table, and I was more than happy to oblige.

"This looks great, Kurt," Blaine said with an honest smile.

"Agreed," Dad said, glancing over at Blaine, who was still kind of staring at me, completely enamored. "Easy with the goo-goo eyes, kid, your face'll get stuck like that."

"_Dad_!" I complained again, making him chuckle. "Behave," I said this time, so he couldn't mock me for it.

"How are things at the shop, Mr. Hummel?" Blaine asked, and we both looked at him in surprise. "I assumed Hummel Tires and Lube was yours..." he said awkwardly, looking between the two of us.

"It is, babe." The nickname slipped out before I could stop it. I had never called him that before, except in my head, and Blaine blushed. Dad was smirking, so I stepped on his foot.

"The shop's great, business is always good during the winter because ice makes people idiots." Blaine nodded in understanding. "You know anything about cars?"

"A little," Blaine answered, surprising me. "I fixed up a Chevy with my dad a few summers ago, so I would know enough if I ever had any trouble, but I'm not quite a mechanic." _This_ was the Blaine I liked so much. I was glad my father was finally meeting him.

"You should come by the shop, I could teach you a few things," Dad offered, and if that wasn't a certified seal of approval, I didn't know what was.

"That would be nice, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said, "but I'm usually really busy with Cheerios..."

"Yeah, I know. I remember how little I saw my son when Kurt was on the squad," Dad said, nudging me.

"I'm sure, especially since Coach Sylvester was so obsessed with vocals back then," Blaine said, taking the first bite of his dinner. Dad had eaten about half of his, I was picking at mine, but Blaine hadn't touched his at all. I took this as a sign that his nerves were receding.

"So, how 'bout them Buckeyes?" Dad asked him casually, and I sighed. Football.

"They had a pretty good season, but I think they could do better if they played Miller more as QB. I know he's only a freshman, but the guy's a tank," Blaine commented, and Dad stared at him in shock. "I mean, Bauserman's good, and I guess senior year is his time to shine..." Blaine said uncertainly.

"Blaine, stop rambling. My dad's just surprised that you know anything about football. He expects all gay guys to be as stereotypical as I am," I teased my father.

"You're not a stereotype," Blaine argued, not getting the joke. "I mean, you're a mechanic in your spare time, and you played football." I smiled at my boyfriend. God, he's cute.

"Ahem." Dad didn't even bother to make it sound like a cough, separating us after a few seconds of silence. "If you two are quite done staring at each other..." Blaine blushed again, snapping his eyes back to my father.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said formally.

"Don't apologize, and don't call me sir," Dad ordered. "Call me Burt." It was official. My dad loved my boyfriend.

At this point they got into some deep discussion about the quarterbacks for the Buckeyes (did you know there's more than one?), and I continued to eat my food, smiling to myself as I watched my father and boyfriend get along smashingly. Blaine was very careful not to even brush the beer that was still sitting there, perpetually testing him. By the time we had all finished our food (and my amazingly sweet boyfriend had cleared our places and offered to do the dishes, foiled only by this invention called a _dishwasher_), Blaine and Dad were acting like old friends.

"I should get going, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said after we had watched some football, still not comfortable using my father's first name. It was football, but it wasn't the Buckeyes. I didn't care either way. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and I was more than happy to snuggle into Blaine's side as much as he would let me. "My parents might be concerned, I didn't tell them where I was going." I knew the likelihood was that his parents weren't even home, but the longer this dinner stretched out, the more of a chance there was that something could go wrong.

"All right, drive safe, Blaine." Dad didn't berate Blaine about calling him 'Mr. Hummel'. He seemed to be all right with that.

"I'll see you at school on Monday?" Blaine asked as I walked him to the door.

"Bright and early," I confirmed. I was vividly aware of my father watching us, and I had a feeling Blaine was too.

"Do _not_ follow me out into the snow," he insisted, making me laugh.

"All right, all right, I won't," I promised him.

"Goodnight," Blaine said gently, and I was _completely_ surprised when Blaine leaned in to give me a sweet kiss, wrapping his arms around my waist but other than that keeping his hands to himself. I kissed back, a little uncertainly, and he let me go once we both needed some air.

"Goodnight," I returned the sentiment breathily.

"Sweet dreams," he said as he headed out the door, stopping to wave one last time at my father before heading out to his truck.

I didn't turn around to face my dad until I heard Blaine's truck start up and drive away. When I did, my father looked amused, one eyebrow raised. "He's got guts," was all Dad said.

"I wasn't expecting him to do that," I admitted, and my father chuckled.

"Me neither." He sighed, adjusting his baseball cap. "I do like the kid, now that he's acting normal."

"I told you he was wonderful," I said, a little smugly.

"Yeah, yeah, come here," Dad said, standing up and pulling me into a hug when I reached him. "He makes you smile like a love-struck idiot." I chuckled, safe in my dad's warm embrace. "He makes you happier than I've seen you in years."

"He really does," I said, smiling as I thought of how sweet Blaine had been recently.

"He's a good kid," Dad decided. "Makes a lousy first impression though."

"I'll have to agree with you on that one," I said with a laugh, thinking of my first impression of Blaine, before I had really known him.

"All right, enough of this sappy crap," Dad said gruffly, making me laugh. "Go do your homework."

"I've done my homework," I argued, but I headed upstairs anyway. "Out of curiosity, where _did_ you send Carole and Finn?"

"They went out for a mother-son dinner," Dad said with a shrug. "Figured they might want some time to themselves, considering they spent sixteen years just the two of them." It was probably something Carole had said to him. Dad was awesome, but he had trouble with the emotional stuff.

"Fair enough," I said, and then on the spur of the moment, "Love you, Dad."

"Love you too."

* * *

**A/N: Ta-da! Blaine survived meeting the parents :)**

**Um... there are no songs in this chapter, and I have no more comments. Awkward.**

**Reviews are Love.**


	9. Articles and Tears

I called Blaine that night, wanting to make sure he was okay, and also wanting to assure him that my father completely approved of him, since he had been so worried.

"_Well, that didn't take long_," Blaine teased as he answered his phone. "_Good news or bad news_?" Blaine didn't sound worried, which was good.

"Good news. My dad thoroughly approves of you and how happy you make me." I was delighted that Dad approved of Blaine. He wasn't easy to impress, especially when it came to me, and he had dealt remarkably well with meeting my first boyfriend.

"_I'm glad_," Blaine replied, and he sounded like he was smiling.

"Are you all right? I know my dad can be kind of... intimidating," I said hesitantly.

"'_Kind of'_?" Blaine asked with a laugh. "_He's terrifying, but yes, I'm all right. Your dad's awesome, Kurt_." Blaine's tone was wistful, and idiotic curiosity overcame me.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked Blaine.

"_You just did,_" Blaine replied casually.

"You've been waiting to say that, haven't you?" I asked.

"_Practically since the day we met. Is that your final question?_"

"Blaine."

"_All right, all right. Yes, you are more than welcome to ask me anything._"

"Will I ever meet your dad?" My question was met with a stretch of silence.

"_You wouldn't want to_," Blaine said finally, his voice dark. "_Trust me, he's not a nice person_."

"What do you mean?" I asked, because his tone and his words were scaring me, especially because we had been joking and laughing moments before.

"_My father would not be happy to discover that I was acting on my 'disgusting life choices_,'" Blaine spit out, his voice more anger than hurt.

"Blaine-" I said, trying to apologize for bringing up a touchy subject, but Blaine wasn't quite done talking.

"_Might even throw me into another wall_," he said with a bitter laugh.

"What?" I shrieked, only hearing a sigh in return. "Blaine, I don't care if he's your dad. If he hurts you, you have to tell someone. The police!"

"_My father is a very rich man, Kurt. Anything that reached the ears of the police would go away just as quickly as it started_,_ and I'm fine, Kurt, I promise_."

"Blaine, that's _abuse_," I argued, hoping the word would provoke some sort of reaction, but Blaine didn't seem concerned. I probably really shouldn't be telling you about this either, but it's the only thing in our relationship that Blaine and I never really resolved. That can never be resolved.

"_Kurt, things like that haven't happened in a long time_," Blaine said, sounding scarily unconcerned. "_It was mostly back when I was at Beechcroft, when I was dating Connor. My dad knew, and telling him wasn't the brightest idea I've ever had, but it doesn't matter. Everything will be fine_."

"Blaine, you can't just shrug off the fact that your father _abused_ you. I don't care if it was in the past, it could still happen again. That kind of behavior doesn't just _stop_. If anything, it _escalates_." I was completely freaking out. The idea of Blaine being hurt by ignorant Neanderthals was bad enough, but by his own _father_?

"_Kurt..._"

"Tell someone. Move out. Anything. _Please_," I practically begged. Blaine sighed.

"_Kurt, it's not worth it right now. I haven't seen my father in weeks, there's no reason to bring up bad memories. If something else happens, I'll do something about it, all right_?" Blaine asked, sounding resigned.

"Promise?"

"_Promise_."

"Okay," I said uncertainly. It wasn't that I didn't believe Blaine, this just didn't seem like the proper way to deal with this new knowledge. Well, it was new to me. Blaine had been carrying this with him for years.

"_Thank you_," Blaine said after several moments of silence. When I made a questioning noise, he clarified, "_For the concern. There are plenty of people that would hear that and wouldn't even be surprised_." He had told someone else, I gathered, and that someone else hadn't been concerned, expecting Blaine to be abused because of his sexuality. I was getting good at deciphering Blaine's mysterious statements.

"Are you okay?" I asked. It was dumb question, but I needed to hear the answer.

"_Yes_," Blaine said with a chuckle. "_I'm all right. I promise_."

The news was disturbing, but I tried not to dwell too much on what Blaine went through at home. Vacation was almost over, since we got barely any time after New Years to recover before school. Sadly, I didn't get to see Blaine on New Year's Eve or January 1st. I have to admit that a kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve is definitely on my bucket list.

I freaked out when someone pulled me towards the dumpsters on the first day of school, clamping a hand over my mouth. No one seemed concerned, or even to notice. Too lethargic from New Year's parties. It had been a long time since I had taken a dive into the dumpsters, and I wasn't looking forward to starting 2012 with such an incident. I was surprised when I was dragged _behind_ the dumpster in the alley near the science building, instead of into it.

"Hello," Blaine said with a smile. "Sorry if I scared you."

"Try _half to death_!" I exclaimed, but I couldn't help but smile too. I had missed him.

"Just wanted to say hello privately." Blaine kissed me before I could ask what he meant, deep and long and... let's just say, our little hello made up for no kiss at midnight. More than made up for it.

"Wow," I said before I could stop myself, making Blaine chuckle.

"I would ask how your vacation was, but I think I know."

"Yeah," I said, still a little bit breathless. "This is very... um, public, Blaine."

"We'll talk about it soon," he promised, knowing where my thoughts were going. He had gotten remarkably good at reading my mind. "We should get to first period, though, before we get... distracted again," Blaine said, giving me an up-and-down glance that made me shiver a bit.

First period yielded nothing good. "Kurt, have you seen this?" Mercy asked, holding up a printed off copy of an article from Jacob Ben Israel's blog. "It's crazy."

"What is it?" I said, snatching the article. If it was possible for me to be whiter, I would have paled reading Ben Israel's scum.

**Local News has it on good authority (our own eyes) that a powerful Cheerio is messing around with the social structure. The News spotted a Cheerios uniform with a pin having coffee with an undetermined loser, and this couple has also possibly been spotted in the park, skating, frequently getting coffee at the Lima Bean, kissing underneath the McKinley bleachers, and sneaking out of a supply closet, looking very ruffled. The question is: who's the Cheerio and why are they so determined to ruin the status quo?**

Underneath the words was a blurry picture of me and Blaine kissing outside the skating rink. Only someone who knew it was us could have determined the people in the picture, since both of our faces were obscured, and my outfit was hidden under my bulky, concealing coat, except for one hint of the red scarf.

"That's crazy," I agreed, feeling dizzy. Blaine was considering being openly together with me, why did this have to happen? If Blaine was outed because of me, he would never forgive me. I knew that instinctually.

"Who do you think it is?" Mercedes asked me, stealing her article back.

"Pardon?" I asked, off in my own little world. Did Blaine know? Had he seen the article? Is that why he had dragged me behind the dumpsters to kiss me? Or, worse, did he not know? Would he be completely blind-sided when Coach Sylvester questioned the Cheerios about the news? Would he be okay? Upset with me? _Angry_ with me? All of these questions were running through my mind at lightning speed, and I needed to sit down.

"Who do you think the Cheerio and the normal is?" Mercy asked me as I sat down, still feeling faint. Mercedes hates the word 'loser', having been called it too many times, and she always called us 'normals' when she could do so and still be understood.

"It could be anyone," I said, purposefully not lying, but also not revealing the truth. I loved Mercedes, but it took her about two minutes to tell the entirety of the school about the true father of Quinn's baby, and this was an even bigger scandal... by high school standards, anyway.

"It's annoying, Ben Israel says he's spotted them all of these places, but he only has one crummy picture, and he was never close enough to them to be able to tell who they were?" Mercedes asked, and the most horrifying thought yet occurred to me.

"Maybe he does know," I said. "Maybe he's just trying to build the hype for the scandal. I mean, no one else knew it was going on, so he couldn't just out them. He has to make it a big deal first, give it a little of time to spread through the school, and then make the big reveal." I was feeling sick to my stomach at this point. If Jacob Ben Israel knew, the whole school could know in mere minutes.

"That's a crappy yellow journalism tactic," Mercedes said with disdain, but she couldn't deny that she was curious. Everyone in the school was probably curious, except for the three people that knew. Suddenly, I was very worried about Finn.

"I have to go," I declared, trying not to sound panicked. "I need to talk to Finn."

"White boy can't wait?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's important." It's amazing that she didn't guess I was involved by my actions. I was practically half-insane, suddenly terrified for the success of my relationship with Blaine.

"Whatever," she said, pulling out her phone and probably looking for updates on the biggest scandal to hit McKinley in the last two years... maybe longer.

I found Finn at his locker, and I could tell by his concerned expression that he had seen the article. "Have you seen it?" he asked me, voice full of worry for my safety. Blaine and I coming out of the closet was one thing, being outed to the entire school in one cruel swipe was a whole other.

"I'm guessing you have," I answered, nodding. "You haven't-"

"Dude, of course not." Finn's eyes flickered around. "Everyone's asking if the loser is someone in the Glee club, since we're all at the bottom of the totem pole. That's narrowing it really badly, dude." Finn had no issue with the word 'loser.'

"I know," I said. I hadn't known about the Gleek thing, but it made sense that people would assume that.

"Coach Sylvester's screaming at all the Cheerios in the gym, and everyone's crowded around to watch," Finn said, eyes glancing that way.

"This is _so_ not good," I practically moaned, collapsing against the bank of lockers. "He's going to hate me if everyone finds out this way."

"Dude, he would never hate you." I raised my eyebrows at my brother. "I mean, Blaine's your-"

"Finn!" I shushed him.

"Sorry," Finn said, looking guilty. "But still, he can't blame you for this."

"You don't know that," I said dramatically.

"Dude, he's crazy about you, right?" Finn asked, and I nodded in reply. "Then he should be happy that everyone knows your his."

"You don't understand, Finn," I argued, ignoring the possessive note to Finn's wording. "He has his reasons, and I know enough about them to respect them." They were reasonable, after all. With everything he's been through, he doesn't want to risk living that kind of horror again.

"Fine, but it's still not your fault if everyone finds out." I sighed and gave up on trying to convince Finn. He could be very stubborn when he wanted to be.

I got the text I had been expecting last period.

**Coach Sylvester chewed out each and every one of the Cheerios while the school watched today. Have you seen it yet?**

_Yes_.

**This isn't exactly how I want to come out, Kurt.**

_I don't want this either, Blaine, but the fact of the matter is, people know there's something going on. Either we keep things on the down-low, or we make a decision, right now, to face down the scandal_.

Blaine never answered that text. He didn't answer any of my following texts that day either, or my calls that night. I couldn't imagine what was going on inside of his head, but I decided to give him some space. The standard for calling someone is three days, right? That's what I decided to give him. Three days before I dragged him away and _made_ him talk to me. Heck, I might even show up on his door step, regardless of his father.

"I don't know what to do," Blaine said, scaring the crap out of me as he locked the door to the choir room I had come through on the second day of my wait. I had stopped to investigate why the door to the choir room was open, hoping it wasn't vandalized again, and the moment I had stepped inside, the door had shut behind me.

"About the article?" I asked, knowing the answer. The school was buzzing, the scandal not having lost any strength. Normally, minor scandals fade out, people losing interest because there was nothing to prove it. Now they had a picture, and the whole thing had become one life-sized game of _Clue_. Accusations were made, and quickly rejected, and Jacob Ben Israel was the person to know. It was exactly what he wanted, and only when people started losing interest would he start leaking more. I prayed to the idiocy and curiosity of my classmates.

"Someone just asked me if I was the Cheerio. There are only three real candidates: me, Santana, and Becky. We're the most powerful Cheerios, and we're the only ones with pins. I managed to... well, he doesn't suspect me anymore, but the point remains. People are going to find out." I recognized the look in Blaine's eyes, I had only seen it once before, the day we made up after our pseudo-break-up, almost two months ago. Pure terror.

"Blaine, we don't have to-"

"And there are only two real candidates, really. I mean, it's obvious that the person with their back to the camera in this picture is male. Santana's been outed, so no one suspects her really. The pot's on Becky, but if people were smart, they would realize that the Cheerio is almost the same height as the male," I would have laughed at that had it been any other conversation, "and Becky's abnormally short, and that only leaves me, Kurt. Just me." Blaine was trembling, so I pulled him out of view of the doors, wrapping him in my arms and rubbing his back. It killed me how damaged he was.

"Blaine, it's going to be okay," I assured him even though I didn't believe it myself. He was clinging to me like he never wanted to let go, and my heart just about broke. "The scandal will die down, and everything will be back to normal. Then, if we decide to, we can make the grand reveal," I teased, trying to make Blaine smile.

"I think we should tone it down," Blaine said, pulling away and brushing away a few tears he had started to shed. "Just for now. I know you want to be open, if not quite like this, but I still need some time to think. Please?" he asked, and how could I say no when he looked so young and scared and _so_ vulnerable in that moment?

"Of course," I said. "We'll just... huddle in our closet for a few days." Blaine could hear the disdain in my voice, and his laugh came out very throatily.

"Thank you," he said, giving me a quick kiss that barely counted. "We'll put the closet on the list of conversations we need to have."

"We have a list?" I asked, not able to think of any others.

"Don't think I've quite forgotten how I got finagled into meeting your dad," Blaine said with a smile, and I blushed. I had forgotten about our agreement to talk about sex. Oh, for the love of Pete, you're not a virgin, stop squirming. "What's up with all the swimsuits?" he asked, finally looking around the room.

"We're doing a big number in the pool that's going to amount to Mr. Schue asking Miss Pillsbury to marry him," I replied.

"This school is so weird," he said with a laugh. "You can go back to class if you want to, I'm going to hang out here until I can slip back into full hallways unnoticed.

"So, basically, you're avoiding history class?" I asked with a smile, and he groaned.

"It's _so_ boring. We had U.S. History at Beechcroft as sophomores, but McKinley didn't even bother to find that out. I _should_ be taking World History, but I didn't want to protest and get stuck in a class with sophomores and burn-outs, so I'm just acing U.S. with flying colors."

"You are very sneaky," I said, grabbing him in another kiss. "I'll see you soon." I went back to class, and I'm sure Blaine stayed in there and went through our sheet music. I know he did, as a matter of fact, and I'm sure you do too. Remember that copy of the sheet music for _I Will Be_ that went missing? Yeah, who else was in there?

Toning it down was one thing, and it was reasonable, considering we had been downright irresponsible as of late, but the fact that it corresponded with Blaine texting and calling me less wasn't okay. I knew he was trying to draw away from me, but I had no idea how to stop him from doing so. We had coffee once during the weekend following Jacob Ben Israel's article, but instead of meeting up in the coffee shop and kissing and holding hands at the table, Blaine grabbed coffee there before picking me up covertly, and we ended up parked near the make-out spot uptown, drinking coffee and talking. Not that our little date wasn't fun, but the atmosphere in the car was tense, and I knew why. We both did. There were some heavy things on Blaine's mind, and I didn't want to pressure him to make a decision either way. Except I very much did, hence the awkwardness.

Michael week lifted my spirits considerably, enough that I stopped being slightly, unintentionally terse, and Blaine warmed up a little. Sadly, he wasn't warming up to the idea of us being out, but that was a whole other issue.

_I can't believe we're doing MJ! See, this is the kind of legendary music you would be allowed to perform if you were a part of the New Directions!_

**I think you spelled that wrong. At least, Charlie told me something very different... though I happen to like both.**

_*Blaine!*_

**I meant as names for Glee clubs. What were you thinking? Anyway, can't we leave off the arguing for a few minutes?**

_*Blaine,* I know what you meant, and who said anything about arguing? I just have a proposal._

**This does not sound good**.

_You're amazingly talented, Blaine. Don't you think it would be fun to spend at least one afternoon with people that are just as talented as you are?_

**The Cheerios are plenty talented. Well, more *athletic* and *flexible* than talented, but still. I'm humbled to spend my days surrounding by gold medal gymnasts in short skirts**.

_Wow, that sounded remarkably hetero._

**Oh, shush :)**

_Anyway, I was thinking you could visit a Glee practice. We have rehearsal tomorrow, and I know you don't have practice_.

**I can't believe you managed to convince Brittany to give you a copy of the Cheerios' schedule. That's supposed to be sacred**.

_I'm magic_.

**Did you make out with her again?**

_*Blaine!*_

**Just checking. I'm pretty convinced you could convince anyone to do *anything* with those talented lips of yours :)**

_..._

**Get your mind out of the gutter, Hummel.**

_Anyway... would you consider it?_

**Babe, I think if I started spending time with the Glee club, it would make it pretty obvious that I'm the Cheerio breaking all the social rules.**

_Babe?_

**Is that only okay when you say it?**

_Oh, right. I had forgotten about that. It kind of just... slipped out_.

**It's fine :) I didn't mind at all, and your dad looked more amused than anything.**

_Here's what I was thinking though: who would know? The Glee club is the prime suspect for housing the loser, yes, but all of the Glee club has already talked about this and decided it wasn't them. They think I'm too innocent to be secretly dating anyone anyway_.

**Well, you are pretty innocent. Not that that's a bad thing.**

_My point is: even if the Glee kids are a little suspicious, they won't associate you being there with the rumor because they don't think we're involved. And they are the only ones who're going to know you're there, and they won't be gossiping about it. I mean, it's not a big deal. Even Coach Sylvester has spent some of her afternoons in Glee club. Hell, she *coached* a Glee club last year. Not ours, but still..._

**I don't know, Kurt...**

_Just in case you need some extra incentive: I'm performing my Michael number on Tuesday. Wouldn't it be more fun to not have to sneak?_

**You're more manipulative than I give you credit for being. Deal.**

And that is how you manipulate a shy boyfriend. I'm not proud of it, but I definitely convinced Blaine to come to Glee with an ulterior motive: the more comfortable he felt with the idea of us being out (which was integrally combined with our very separate social stations), the more likely he was to agree that was what's best for us. I manipulated him. I'm not proud of it, and I regret it... we'll get to it, Rachel, I promise. The story's almost over.

Blaine came to rehearsal that Tuesday, Day 84, as you're aware, and I performed _The Way You Make Me Feel._.. a very suggestive performance, which probably makes a lot more sense now, doesn't it? I tried not to sing directly to my secret boyfriend, who was sitting in the back and pretty much drooling by the second verse, but it was difficult. The song was _for_ him, after all, and I've never been very good at subtle. Blaine especially enjoyed the little wink I gave him near the wind-out.

_Ain't Nobody's Business,_

_Ain't Nobody's Business_

_(The Way You Make Me Feel)_

_Ain't Nobody's Business,_

_Ain't Nobody's Business But_

_Mine And My Baby_

It was true, after all, and I would keep it our business for as long as possible. For Blaine's sake.

I thought everything that had happened at Glee club was okay and within our boundaries. After all, I don't think anyone suspected, although Finn laughing his ass off made things a little more difficult. Someday I will kill that boy. However, Blaine didn't seem to agree with my assessment of how Glee club had went for us.

He stopped answering my texts, even the flirty, non-serious ones asking how he had liked my performance. I called him, I left messages, he never called me back. For the first time, he shut me out completely, and it was awful. I hadn't even realized how frequently he had been my company until I called up Mercedes to hang out and she asked sarcastically if I was busy. I had been busy for about the past three months with Blaine, and only now that he wasn't around constantly, was I realizing how big a portion of my life he had become. It sucked that he wasn't around. I had to resort to hanging out with you, which I'm pretty sure is how I got roped into this conversation.

Anyway, I confronted Blaine at his locker when MJ week wrapped up, that Friday. "What's been going on with you?" I asked, not even bothering to wait for the halls to hear. Blaine's eyes flicked around to look at our audience, and then he pulled me into the empty Spanish room, holding my wrist instead of my hand. It was pointed.

"We need to break up." They were the most crushing words I had ever heard, and for a moment, I couldn't even believe Blaine had said them.

"What?" I asked dumbly, unreasonably blind-sided.

"We can't keep this relationship a secret, Kurt. The whole school knows, even if they don't know that it's us, and I can't do it. I can't be open, like I was in Columbus. I can't risk it, Kurt." Blaine sounded resigned, but not particularly upset.

"Why?" I asked dumbly. I sure was saying a lot of dumb stuff, but it felt like my world had just imploded. Now I know why people are so dramatic in movies. When unlikely romances ended, it really did make you want to curl up with a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a stack of movies you would never watch under any other circumstances.

"You know why, Kurt," was all Blaine said in reply, his voice icy cold. I was about to get upset with him for not caring, and then I realized... he was shutting me out, but not very well. I knew all the cracks in his armor now.

"Blaine, all those stories you told me don't apply to us." Blaine looked at me incredulously. "I'm serious. This is entirely different from what happened at Beechcroft." Any emotion I had seen in Blaine's eyes left them. "Sure, we'll get some flack for breaking the status quo, but you're still a Cheerio, and you'll still be invincible. Hell, you'll probably pass some of that protection along, rather than the other way around. I know this is difficult for you, but I'm not Connor. I can handle whatever happens." It was probably the worst thing I could have said. I literally saw the onslaught of painful memories going on inside Blaine's head, and he walked away without another word.

That, I knew, was it. The final straw. Our story of star-crossed lovers had ended, Day 87, Friday, January 13th. And I couldn't even cry, because I knew it was my fault.

* * *

**A/N: This is not the end of the story. Don't you worry. More next week.**


	10. Break-ups and Duende

"That wasn't your fault, Kurt," were the first words out of Rachel's mouth as Kurt wrapped up his story. "The fact that you two broke up was all on Blaine. He needed to make a decision, an important decision, and he couldn't. I don't understand why he thought his past was more important than his present, but that's something that I see as a third-party observer, and your friend." Kurt rolled his eyes at Rachel.

"Rachel, Blaine's been through hell," he argued, "he's allowed to have his limitations on our relationship, and I pushed him too far, too fast."

"No, him pushing you to... be intimate after being together for only three months was too far, too fast." Not for some people, but Kurt let it slide. He would never consider Rachel a normal person.

"Rachel, do you really think that's what we're talking about?" he asked her with a raised eyebrow. Talking to Rachel could be _trying_.

"Kurt, you did your best with Blaine's 'limitations,'" Kurt was getting the feeling his best friend was mocking him, and he didn't appreciate it, "the fact of the matter is he needed to grow up and see that there's something good in his life now, and maybe he can't handle that, but _he_ screwed up. Not you." Rachel always sounded so sage with her advice, how come she was always so _wrong_?

"Rachel, you don't understand. I've been through bullying, not nearly as bad as he had, and it _haunts_ me sometimes. I can't even imagine having to live with what Blaine's been through. He gets it from all angles."

"And you don't?" she asked immediately. "You get it at school, I know your whole family gets it at home, the whole _town_ bullies you, Kurt." She really didn't understand.

"I have the Glee club, and my family loves and supports me. Blaine had _no one_, Rachel."

"That was the past, and now he has _you_. At least, he did. And he would have had our support, and your family's support, and plenty of support from the Cheerios, who have to love him for their safety." Kurt sighed. He and Rachel had similar lines of thought, but thinking like that was exactly why Blaine had broken up with him.

"I shouldn't have pushed Blaine. I think he would have made his own decision, eventually, but bringing him here and singing to him was too much, especially with everything else that's been going on." That article had started it all, and Kurt could wring Jacob Ben Israel's scrawny neck.

"You guys are really early for practice," Mr. Schue said, breaking into their conversation. His eyes widened a little when he took in their wide eyes, Rachel's expression shocked and Kurt's a little fearful. "Did I hear something I shouldn't have?" He glanced once more at the clock. "Are you guys skipping class?"

Both of them started with the tears at the same time, and under any other circumstances, Mr. Schuester would call them out for crocodile tears and send them back to class, but whatever they had been talking about in quiet tones was obviously serious. One set of tears was probably real, maybe even both. "I'll call your teachers, tell them I pulled you out of class," he promised, retreating to his office and shutting the door tightly. Kids and their drama.

Kurt and Rachel waited until Mr. Schuester had closed his door to continue their conversation. "That was close," Rachel said, brushing away her fake tears, but Kurt had started crying, and now he couldn't seem to stop.

"I messed everything up, Rach." She pulled her distressed friend into her arms, feeling bad that he was so upset.

"It wasn't you, Kurt, it was him." Kurt just shook his head as she patted his back.

* * *

"Dude, you look like shit," was the first thing Finn said when he walked through the Hummel-Hudson front door.

"Finn!" Rachel hissed, unimpressed with his blatant, but probably true, statement.

"Where were you guys during practice?" he asked as he put down his book bag, taking in the sight on the couch.

"Here," Kurt mumbled, his throat scratchy. Rachel had dragged him home shortly after he had stopped crying, practically shoving him up the stairs with orders for him to change into comfortable pajamas and wash the products out of his hair. He had made sure to do some moisturizing, and meanwhile, she made quite a racket downstairs. When he came back down, he saw that she had made hot chocolate and barbecue popcorn for the two of them, turned on A Walk to Remember, and was sitting on the couch with blankets, obviously ready to have a pity party with him. He had been more than happy to oblige.

"What's wrong?" Finn asked, his brotherly concern showing as he sat on the couch next to Kurt. Kurt was curled up with Rachel, not caring that they were practically cuddling. "What happened? Who do I have to kill?"

"Blaine dumped me," Kurt replied, and Finn's first reaction was to look fearfully at Rachel, as if Kurt would have said anything in front of her on accident. "She knows, Finn. I told her everything."

"In exquisite detail." Somehow Rachel managed to make that sound perverted, in the way only the clean-minded could. Finn didn't seem to care, wrapping an arm around Kurt and essentially placing him in the middle of a Finchel sandwich. It wasn't entirely an unpleasant or uncomfortable place to be.

"Should I punch him in the face?" Finn asked uncertainly, and for some reason that made Kurt laugh. "Because I totally will, dude. Just say the word."

"No violence," Kurt said firmly, pausing the movie. "Blaine had reasonable cause." Rachel opened her mouth to object, and Kurt cut her off. "It was my fault."

"Dude, it's never really your fault when someone dumps you. Take it from me." Rachel glanced at her boyfriend sternly. "Unless you, like, cheated on him or something..." Finn squirmed a little uncomfortably. "You didn't cheat on him, did you?"

"Oh, Finn, did I neglect to tell you about my torrid affair with Rachel?" Kurt asked sarcastically, making the girl in question laugh and Finn smile.

"Not funny, bro."

"Rachel laughed. I guess that means I'm better than you are." Finn got him back for that comment by ruffling his hair. "Finn!"

"You totally deserved that." Kurt didn't argue. He had. "You okay, bro?" Finn asked as Rachel stroked her hand through Kurt's sloppy hair. She could be very comforting when the mood struck her... but lightning rarely strikes twice.

"No, but I will be." Kurt jumped a bit when Finn kissed him on the forehead. "What-"

"You've totally done that to me, bro. Fair's fair." Kurt couldn't argue with that. "Whatcha watching?" Finn asked, reclining his feet on the coffee table (as Kurt had told him a hundred times not to) and not seeming inclined to move.

"A Walk to Remember," Rachel replied, turning the movie back on. "It's a tear-jerker, which we're essentially using as an excuse to cry."

"Does tears mean you're out?" Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow, and Finn rolled his eyes, a habit he had picked up from the countertenor himself.

"Not a chance, dude. Especially if the deal comes with hot chocolate." Rachel got up to make Finn a mug.

Finn ended up crying more than Kurt and Rachel combined, which was _really_ saying something.

Burt didn't remark on the unusual scene on his couch when he got home, and Carole just smiled at the fact that her two sons were getting along, and had finally stopped arguing about Rachel. However, Kurt still wasn't surprised when he came down the stairs at around eight and Burt was all alone on the couch with two mugs of hot chocolate.

"I considered putting Kahlua in yours, but I didn't think you were that upset," Burt said as his son sat down, curling into his dad without a second thought. "What happened today, kid? It's been a while since I've seen you with puffy red eyes, and I don't like it."

"Blaine and I broke up." Burt sighed, readjusting his baseball cap.

"I hoped we would never have to have this conversation," he said gruffly, and Kurt looked at him in confusion. "Your first broken heart," Burt clarified.

"Nobody finds the perfect person on the first try," Kurt replied, resting his head on his dad's shoulder and feeling immediately better when his dad wrapped an arm around him.

"Yes, but I still hoped you would be doing all the dumping," Burt said with a chuckle, then seemed to think it over. "Not that I want you to have a reason to dump someone... break-ups just suck, kid."

"Who said I got dumped?" Kurt asked with a smile.

"It's written all over your face, kiddo." Kurt sighed. That was probably very true. "It'll be all right, Kurt. He's just one, idiotic boy."

"I know," Kurt said, not bothering to argue, "but he was _my_ one, idiotic boy."

"Ever thought that you're better off without him?" Kurt gave his father a betrayed look. "Too early for that trick, I guess."

"I guess I was kind of dependent on him," Kurt admitted, trying to find the flaws in his relationship with Blaine. "I mean, I hadn't hung out with Mercedes in so long she was mad at me, and Rachel found out about him because he was always on my mind." His dad sighed, rubbing his arm.

"Just ease my mind on one thing. You didn't..." Burt flapped his hand around kind of spastically, a gesture that Kurt could figure out, but was still amusing, making him laugh at his dad's awkwardness, "with the kid, did you?"

"I didn't sleep with Blaine, no," Kurt assured his dad, ignoring the way Burt grimaced at the words.

"Good. Drink your hot chocolate, we'll watch some of those fashion shows you like." Burt always knew how to make his son feel better.

About halfway through the second episode of... some ridiculous show Burt hadn't even caught the name of, Kurt was starting to drift off on his shoulder. Burt didn't have the heart to wake him, even though sleeping like this would give them both aches in the morning. "Love you, Daddy," he murmured as he fell asleep on Burt's shoulder.

"Love you too, kid," his dad replied, kissing Kurt's head.

* * *

"Jacob Ben Israel," Blaine's voice practically boomed out across the hall. "I have a story for your crummy blog, but I think everyone wants to hear this." Ben Israel immediately rushed up to Blaine with his tape recorder, his hair bobbing as he ran. "I am the Cheerio who has been breaking the status quo." Everyone gasped, even though the news really wasn't that surprising to anyone intelligent.

"Does he have to do this while you're here?" Rachel asked, leaning against the locker next to Kurt's and speaking his mind. Kurt ignored her (and Blaine), pulling books out of his locker and trying to act thoroughly uninterested.

"It doesn't matter, Rachel." The pity party with Finn and Rachel, and the comfort he had received from his father had made Kurt feel much better, and he was trying not to think about their break-up too much. He had a feeling that was about to become a very difficult task.

"That relationship, the one that made all you ignorant toads fear for your paramount 'normal,'" Blaine continued coldly, "is now over. We are broken up, and it is no longer your business. So _get lost_." Blaine finished by snapping Ben Israel's tap recorder seemingly effortlessly, though Kurt could see the muscles in his arms move and flex.

"Who's the loser?" Mindy Crawford yelled out. She was one of the girls pretty enough to be popular without being a Cheerio.

"Or rather, who _was_ the loser?" a friend of hers asked, making everyone laugh. Blaine silenced the hallway with a glare, a particular talent of his.

"What's your name, Abigail Adams?" Blaine asked coolly.

"Abigail Adams?" someone asked, quiet enough that they thought Blaine wouldn't hear them. Big mistake.

"Isn't the resemblance striking?" Blaine asked, smirking, and the girl flushed as people laughed. Kurt saw the lights of several phones as people Googled her to figure out the joke. Abigail Adams wasn't known for being particularly pretty.

"Kelly Johnson," the poor girl replied.

"Tell me, Kelly Johnson, are you dating anyone?" The girl shook her head furiously. "Not surprising." A few people snickered, including Mindy. "Well, Kelly Johnson, if you can ever tell me the name of the boy you dated for almost three months, I'll tell you the same. Deal?" The girl's eyes were watery, and she didn't bother to answer. "Any more questions?" Blaine asked the rest of the hall.

"Would it upset the status quo even more if we knew who the mystery man was?" asked another worker for Jacob Ben Israel's blog. Unfortunately, he had hired even more creepy snitches to help feed the school's gossip center.

"Can you tell me, anonymous paparazzi whose name I don't care to learn, exactly what the words 'status quo' mean?" Blaine asked, staring the suddenly nervous snitch down. People were snickering.

"Not... exactly."

"The phrase 'status quo,' popularized by a Pakistani politician Imran Khan, though more commonly known from the atrocity High School Musical, comes from the Latin words 'statu quo' meaning 'the state in which.' The term 'status quo' tends to mean the current state of affairs. The fact that this man's name is unknown, and shall remain unknown, is part of the current state of affairs, which means it is technically _you_ who is upsetting the 'status quo,'" Blaine informed him mercilessly, using air quotes to further belittle him. The reporter just looked embarrassed at this point, the red blush on his cheeks contrasting horribly with his complexion. "Any follow-up questions?" Blaine asked insistently, to which he shook his head. "Excellent. Anyone else?"

"Who's the closeted homo?" Karofsky asked with a snort.

"You mean, besides you?" Kurt gasped, he couldn't help it. Karofsky looked equally as shocked. "Don't look so surprised, someone was eventually bound to notice the way you ogle Evans' admittedly fine ass." Sam, also part of the crowd Blaine had gathered, looked mortified when Blaine pointed to him. "Seriously, some discretion would have done you well." Karofsky was still staring at him like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Oh, I'm sorry, is the word 'discretion' beyond the limited range of your vocabulary? It means you're the most _obvious_ closet-case I've ever met, and believe me, that's saying something." Karofsky was still staring. "What? Am I a part of your spank-bank now?" Blaine asked, and Karofsky turned and fled. Blaine, thankfully, also turned and left, still hounded by the reporters from Ben Israel's blog that hadn't been torn to shreds yet. Kelly Johnson was crying and the reporter who had been mercilessly torn apart looked ready to faint. No one had gone after Karofsky.

"Wow. What an _asshole_," Kurt said as Blaine turned the corner, and Rachel looked at him disbelievingly.

"Really? That's what you're going with?" she asked.

"He just made a girl cry, almost made a nerd faint, and outed a football player. I'd say that's pretty bad." Kurt was trying to ignore the lump in his throat. Blaine was doing all of this, in his own way, to protect the two of them. He had probably even outed Karofsky to protect Kurt.

"You don't seem particularly surprised about Karofsky," Rachel said suspiciously, but she let it go just as fast. "Kurt, somewhere inside that deeply entrenched in denial brain of yours, you know that his attitude was unusually vitriolic, even for him. _Santana_ would have been crushed under that onslaught. Do you seriously not see what's going on here?"

"He's cruel and vicious and I should be glad we're over?" Kurt asked, trying really hard not to think the way he knew Rachel was. It was the optimistic way, but not the realistic way.

"He's _upset_, and more importantly, he's upset about losing you. Some people get sad, others get angry, and some channel whatever emotions they're feeling into something else. Blaine channeled his feelings into tearing apart all of the people that are his reasons that you two broke up. How can you not see that?"

"Rachel, I would love to live in your world. I bet it's sparkly," he said coldly, shutting his locker.

"Kurt, I'm serious!" she said, following him down the hallway. For someone with short legs, she could walk pretty fast.

"Maybe we should talk about this in lower tones," Kurt suggested. "I wouldn't want all of Blaine's hard work hiding me away to be for nothing."

"Kurt, you _know_ that's not what he's doing. He's upset, and he took it out on the people he sees as obstacles between you and him. I mean, it was _horrible_ to witness, but it was bizarrely sweet, don't you think?"

"Under no circumstances would that have been sweet. That was awful, Rachel, and the fact that he can so ruthlessly tear people down kind of makes me glad we're over... though I do have to wonder what he's saying about me behind my back, if he can say all those things to and about people he's never even interacted with." Kurt was flat-out lying now. He knew Blaine would never badmouth him, if only for the sake of not arousing suspicion.

"Probably that he misses you and that he loves you." Kurt stopped sharply, turning to look at his best friend.

"Blaine Anderson is not in love with me. If he was, he would have been able to look past all of those things that haunt him and move forward with our relationship, but he couldn't. We never talked about love, and I certainly don't want to talk about it now." Kurt slipped away before Rachel could follow him.

* * *

Kurt watched through Mercedes' performance of _Don't Wanna Lose You_. Gloria Estefan, or as Mr. Martinez called her, Gloria María Milagrosa Fajardo García de Estefan, was a great choice for this week's assignment, and he knew she was thinking about Sam as she sang out in Spanish. It was a problem they both shared, having boys floating around in their heads. Kurt made an executive decision as Mercedes finished up her song.

"Mr. Martinez," he said as he raised his hand. "I have something I would like to perform."

"Bueno." Mr. Martinez had far too much fun inserting Spanish into everyday conversation. "Go right ahead, Kurt."

"This week's lesson, while encouraging our knowledge of Spanish, is all about _duende_, or passion, and I'm sorry I'm talking like Rachel before a solo, I promise my spiel will be over shortly." That had everyone laughing and Rachel looking unimpressed with her best friend. "Anyway, passion doesn't have to be big, dramatic, or charismatic. As someone with diva-like tendencies-"

"Hell to the yeah," Mercedes said, making everyone chuckle.

"I'm aware that passion can be much deeper, much more personal, and as Mr. Martinez said, passion can make you cry too. This song kind of breaks the rules, as it not Latin and the person who sang it has no Latin descent to speak of, but I translated some of it into my own clumsy Spanish, so I guess I'm mildly bilingual for the day," Kurt shrugged, and Mr. Martinez just nodded to him.

Kurt sat at the piano, took a deep breath, and almost changed his mind... until he caught a glimpse of a red and white uniform ducking quickly out of sight. _Blaine_. Kurt started to play.

_Reborn and shivering  
__Spat out on new terrain  
__Unsure, unconvincing  
__This faint and shaky hour_

Blaine obviously knew he had been spotted, because he didn't try to hide again, locking eyes with Kurt as the countertenor continued to sing out Alanis Morissette's grief over Ryan Reynolds as his own over Blaine. Kurt didn't turn to look at the audience, or even pretend that he wasn't staring at Blaine. He wasn't sure if his ex-boyfriend could hear, but it still meant the same thing if he couldn't.

_Day one, day one  
__Empezar todo otra vez  
__Step one, step one  
__Apenas puedo ni pensar  
__Y ahora estoy fingiendo  
__'Til I'm pseudo-making it  
__Desde cero, comenzar de nuevo  
__Pero esta vez como yo  
__Y no como we_

Singing the Spanish was a little harder than Kurt had expected, even though he had memorized it religiously, but he kept his eyes locked with Blaine's. He could tell now that Blaine could hear, because his forehead had creased in confusion when Kurt started to sing in Spanish. He was going to get wrinkles if he kept doing that.

_Gun shy and quivering  
__Timid without a hand  
__Feign brave with steel intent  
__Little and hardly here_

_Day one, day one  
__Empezar todo otra vez  
__Step one, step one  
__Apenas puedo ni pensar  
__Y ahora estoy fingiendo  
__'Til I'm pseudo-making it  
__Desde cero, comenzar de nuevo  
__Pero esta vez como yo  
__Y no como we_

_Eyes wet toward  
__Wide open frayed  
__Si dios esta tomando bandos  
__Te rezo el busca para perder_

This Spanish didn't fit the tune particularly well, and Kurt had to let go of their eye contact to look at the keys, fumbling briefly with the chords for the bridge along with the unfamiliar words rolling off of his tongue. When he looked back up, Blaine was gone, and his song became more mournful than accusatory. Even though he hadn't really intended it as an accusation.

_Day one, day one  
__Empezar todo otra vez  
__Step one, step one  
__Apenas puedo ni pensar  
__Y ahora estoy fingiendo  
__'Til I'm pseudo-making it  
__Desde cero, comenzar de nuevo  
__Pero esta vez como yo  
__Y no como we_

There was hesitant clapping as he finished, letting his fingers slip off the keys but not standing up. "Well, damn, white boy, all the hair's standing up on my arms," Mercedes said, and there were murmurings of general consensus. "You blew me out of the water."

"Now, _that's_ what I call passion," Mr. Martinez said with a grin, obviously not picking up on the mood in the room.

"And bad Spanish," Santana muttered.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Tina asked before Kurt got the chance to respond to their temporary co-director. "You dated Blaine." Kurt wasn't sure if anyone else had seen the Cheerio in the window. He really didn't care.

"Yes. I'm the loser." No one commented on the terminology.

"I'm gonna kill Ben Israel," Puck declared, and Finn seemed to return the sentiment with a fist bump. "Seriously, not cool."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Quinn asked. "We all talked about it, we would have been supportive."

"We _are_ supportive," Mercedes corrected her, and Kurt knew without looking up that she got a lot of strange looks. "What? Whatever's going on, it's obviously not over."

"It's over, Mercedes." Kurt sighed. "I wrecked everything."

"I-"

"Rach," Finn stopped her, putting a hand on his girlfriend's wrist and managing to control her for the first time in their relationship, rather than the other way around.

"Come on, white boy," Mercedes said, walking over to him. "We're going over to my house, and we're gonna watch crappy movies, and we're gonna talk about how much boys that aren't you suck." It wasn't a question, Mercedes didn't give him an option.

"Mr. Martinez, may we be dismissed?" Rachel asked, lumping herself with Kurt and Mercedes. Kurt knew that Mercy hadn't planned to ask, simply to leave, but Rachel was always so obsessive about Glee club.

"Sure, but I expect a passionate performance from you at some point, Rachel," Mr. Martinez said with a smile, and everyone groaned.

"Has she ever given a performance that _isn't_ ridiculously passionate?" Artie asked, and a few people chuckled.

"Maybe you could learn from her," Tina said coldly, making the whole room 'ooh'. Rachel and Mercedes were too busy dragging him out of rehearsal to care.

* * *

Rachel paraphrased his story for Mercedes, Kurt too worn out to tell her the whole saga again. He just wanted to curl up and go to bed, but he knew the girls wouldn't let him do that. Rachel put in Much Ado About Nothing, something funny to cheer them up, and they sat side by side in their pajamas, eating popcorn from their own separate bowls and occasionally switching.

"You don't get to choose when it comes to true love," Rachel said after a while, watching Claudio's face fall as he's convinced Don Pedro wants Hero for himself.

"Preaching to the choir," Mercedes said, and Kurt had to remember to ask her what was going on in her man-life. Whatever it was, it was serious. This wasn't cheering-Kurt-up talk, this was the kind of talk he was expecting in about two weeks.

"Amen," Kurt added with a sigh.

"Can you guys keep a secret?" Rachel asked, pausing the movie at the beginning of Benedict's soliloquy. "Finn proposed," she admitted shyly, pulling out an engagement ring on a chain.

"Rachel, have you lost your damn mind?" Mercedes asked, and Kurt... wasn't completely sure he agreed.

"Well, it's possible to combine romance with your dreams," Kurt said, gaining a disbelieving stare from Mercedes. "As long as the wedding's a long way off."

"What the hell has this boy done to you?" Mercedes asked with a stern expression. "Am I the only sane one left in the room?" she demanded of no one, popping a handful of Kurt's popcorn in her mouth.

"Mercedes, I love Finn, and in all of my dreams, he's there, struggling alongside me to make ends meet in a New York apartment we can barely afford that I'll eventually talk about on the Jimmy Kimmel show."

"I can't believe you're saying this," Mercedes exclaimed, mouth full of popcorn.

"We want to get married in a few months. Do you promise not to tell anyone?" Rachel asked, fingering her engagement ring.

"Excuse me, I have to go yell at my crazy brother, because I have no idea where he came up with this plan, but that's beyond my realm of sanity. You're going to hitch your life to Finn's before he's even decided whether or not he's going to New York?" Kurt asked, and Rachel's smile faltered for a second.

"What would you do if Blaine burst in that door right now and asked you to marry him, diamond in his hand and tears in his eyes?" Rachel asked, pointing to her bedroom door with a dramatic flourish, and Kurt had a very excellent answer to that.

"Kick him in the nuts and tell him to go find one of his old, sucker boyfriends, because I'm not interested." That was unfair, and untrue, and both Kurt and Rachel knew that, but Rachel didn't comment.

"I don't want to lose Finn, like you sang to Sam today," she said to Mercedes. "I know I have the right person, as scary as that is to face."

"I'm in love with him," Kurt said before he could stop himself. "Blaine. I love him." Rachel's expression of craziness softened as she leaned forward to hug Kurt, knocking her popcorn onto the ground and not caring.

"We know, sweetie," Mercedes consoled through a mouthful of popcorn, rubbing his back.

"What do I do?" Kurt asked, feeling a little bit helpless. Somehow, he had become the only person in the room who knew nothing about love.

"You have to tell him that," Rachel said, still holding him close. "And if he's enough of a moron to push you away after that, he doesn't even deserve to look at you, much less date you, but he won't, because I'm willing to bet that he loves you too. The ones who are hardest to love are usually the ones who need it the most."

"Did you just quote Peaceful Warrior at me?" Kurt asked with a sniff.

"I'm going to have to go with crazy on this one," Mercedes agreed. "Honesty is the best policy when it comes to love."

"Then why haven't you broken up with Shane yet?" Rachel asked, and the two girls got involved in an argument Kurt wasn't quite sure he understood, but he was safe and warm between the two of them, and he quickly fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Don't you worry too much about Kurt and Blaine. They'll be fine.**

**Songs used/mentioned:  
**'_Don't Wanna Lose You_' by Gloria Estefan (mentioned)**  
**'_Not as We'_ o '_No Como Nosotros_' by Alanis Morrisette

**Reviews are Love.**


	11. Assemblies and Valentine's Day

"Extra, extra," Jacob Ben Israel was yelling around the hallway as Finn and Puck approached him, Puck cracking his knuckles. Finn knew his best friend had some anger issues, but at least he was taking them out on a creep who was ruining his brother's life rather than... his brother. "Poll: who do you think Blaine Anderson dated?"

"I think you have a date with my fist," Puck said behind him, using the corniest line of all time, but it worked in cowing Ben Israel. He stopped yelling, at least.

"Puckerman, I think your attitude towards me is entirely unnecessary," Ben Israel said with a sniff. "This is none of your concern... unless you happen to know who the loser is?" Ben Israel asked with a twinkle in his eyes. Puck shoved him against a locker.

"Listen, and listen well," Puck practically growled. "You'll let go of this story and stay the _hell_ away from Blaine Anderson, or I'll shave your stupid fro off and toss you in the dumpster every day for the rest of high school. Get it?"

"Who is it that you're trying to protect, Puckerman?" Ben Israel asked again, his investigative tendencies overriding his fear of Puck.

"_Blaine_. He's my boy now, get it?" Puck asked.

"Could it possibly be you?" Ben Israel asked, clearly having lost all sense of self-preservation. "Could you be the one who dated Blaine Anderson? You're not even on the poll. Are you a closet-case, Puckerman?"

"The only person who's in the closet here is you." Ben Israel opened his mouth to object. "Or at least, you might end up there. For hours."

"Stay away from Blaine," Finn added, feeling kind of useless. "You're messing with people's lives."  
"Maybe it's you," Ben Israel changed his mind, turning to face Finn despite the fact that Puck had him pinned to the locker. "We've all had our suspicions, but what about Rachel?" He sounded grossly excited about the prospect of Finn being gay. Probably because he wanted into Rachel's pants so badly.

"I'm not gay!" Finn proclaimed.

"Bro, even to me, that sounded like denial," Puck said with a snort. "Just shut up. You're too nice to threaten to punch someone's face in."

"Or maybe... it's Kurt," Ben Israel mused. "He would be the obvious choice, and it makes sense that you two Neanderthals would be trying to protect him."

"Listen, JBI, I've been to Juvie, and I know some bad things about some bad people," Puck said, pressing his forearm against Ben Israel's windpipe and shutting him up. "Unless you want to meet every one of those bad people in _very_ bad circumstances, I would suggest you forget about this conversation and leave this be... or else," Puck practically whispered, releasing Ben Israel, who began gasping for breath.

"Got it. Right. This conversation didn't happen, and there's no scandal going on involving Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel. Crystal clear." Puck let Ben Israel go, and he scurried away like the creepy rat he was.

"Do you think he'll tell?" Finn asked, because yeah, they had kind of made it obvious who it was.

"I think he just peed his pants, number one," Puck said with a little bit of a smirk. "And I don't think he really wants to deal with the consequences of that, do you?"

"I wouldn't. Do you really know people from Juvie?" Finn asked as they walked away. He had gotten the impression that Puck didn't exactly make friends there.

"Please, Finny, it's all about the words," Puck said with a roll of his eyes.

* * *

Rachel gave her passionate performance during Glee that day. She sang an excellent cover of Shakira's _Hey You_, sounding much better than the original (Shakira had always sounded a little hoarse to Kurt), but Mr. Schuester didn't look very impressed, because she was the only person who didn't bother to change any of the lyrics to Spanish. All the boys performed _Bambeleo,_ which Sam suddenly interrupted with Enrique Iglesias' _Hero_. Sam had taught Kurt the choreography in about ten minutes before Glee, saying the guys had practiced it last night.

Artie performed at the end of practice to spite Tina, singing Enrique Iglesias' _Finally Found You_ with some rapping help from Puck. Mr. Martinez congratulated them all on their performances, and then the New Directions were dismissed. "Hey, dude, wait up," Finn said as Kurt went to leave, and Puck and Finn were both approaching him.

"What, gentlemen?" Kurt wanted to talk to Blaine before the Cheerio left, if Blaine would let him anyway.

"We just wanted you to know, princess," Kurt ignored Puck's nickname for him, "that you and your boy don't have to worry about Ben Israel anymore." Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Do I want to know exactly how you achieved that?" Puck grinned, and Kurt took that as a 'no.' "All right. Well, thank you, I suppose. Now, if you'll excuse me." Kurt walked away, ignoring the fist bump Puck had been holding up.

A yell of, "No need to be a bitch, princess!" followed him out of the room, following by the distinctive and common sound of Finn hitting Puck.

"Blaine," he called out the Cheerio's name as he approached his ex-boyfriend's locker, and Blaine waited for him to approach, sending away his posse with a flick of his hand. Kurt ignored the glares the girls gave him as they walked away. "Hi," he said, suddenly completely uncertain of how to start this conversation.

"Hello," Blaine said smoothly, and despite his attempts to shut Kurt out, the countertenor could see the hurt in his eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked.

Blaine snorted. "I'm sorry? _I_ broke up with _you_, not the other way around. Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Kurt ignored the hostility in Blaine's tone, knowing what it really was.

"I'm not the one who reduced three people to tears. I seem to be the sane one." Blaine rolled his eyes at Kurt's comment, shutting his locker.

"They deserved it, all of them," Blaine said, dismissive.

"Exactly what did they do to you, Blaine? You didn't even know the names of the first two, and the third one you only bothered to register in your brain because of the story I told you." Kurt could see the muscles in Blaine's neck work as he swallowed.

"What do you want, Kurt? Why are you here?" Blaine asked finally, his voice cracking a bit at the beginning. "Just because I told them it was me, doesn't mean... it didn't mean anything, all right." Blaine didn't sound very convincing.

"I wanted to talk to you," Kurt said gently. "I know we're not getting back together, okay? That doesn't mean this has to be awkward." Blaine barked out an unexpected laugh.

"Kurt, we aren't friends," Blaine said shortly. "We were never friends, and we'll probably never be friends. We have nothing in common, besides a fairly brief romantic stint."

"You call three months a 'fairly brief stint?'" Kurt asked, more hurt than he was willing to admit by Blaine's apathy towards him.

"Kurt, what did you want to tell me? Just come right out and say it, I have places to be and reporters to terrify." Blaine placed his hands on his hips and stared Kurt down.

"I..." How could Kurt tell _this_ Blaine what he had wanted to say? This Blaine wasn't his sweet ex-boyfriend, this was the Blaine that traumatized McKinley students and had made his family hate him. "Why did you spy on Glee a few days ago? When I was singing my solo?" he asked, wanting to put Blaine in the vulnerable position, and Blaine just sighed.

"You were right. I would enjoy being in the Glee club more than I enjoy being in the Cheerios. It's not feasible, but a man can dream, can't he?" Blaine asked, but it was weak, and Kurt could tell that he didn't mean it.

"What did you think of my performance?" Kurt asked, taking a step towards Blaine. He noticed Blaine gulp.

"It was very moving," Blaine replied, not stepping away from Kurt's advance. "You have a phenomenal voice, even in the mezzo-soprano range."

"That's not quite what I meant, Blaine," Kurt said, taking another step forward. There were mere inches between them now.

"I... Don't," Blaine said, and Kurt wasn't sure what he meant. "Just don't do this to me, Kurt, okay?" he practically whispered, his eyes locked on Kurt's mouth.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You know we can't be together," Blaine said, his eyes flickering around to take in the uninterested faces of the students surrounding them. "Not the way you want us to be. Not openly."

"I love you." Blaine gaped at him, and Kurt could see him trying to process.

"Kurt, I can't."

"You don't have to say it back," the countertenor added. "I just thought you should know."

"I'm sorry, I just can't," Blaine said in reply, stepping away from Kurt. It didn't even hurt that Blaine hadn't said the sentiment in return, Kurt mused as Blaine walked away. Kurt knew, somehow, that he felt the same way, even if he couldn't say it.

* * *

Spanish week wrapped up with a very dramatic confrontation between Santana and Mr. Schue and Mr. Martinez, which ended, somehow, a few days later, with Mr. Martinez becoming their new Spanish teacher and Mr. Schuester switching to the history department. At least in that subject, he knew what he was saying, and he couldn't misguide his students when the answers were facts.

Mr. Schuester, finally free of Mr. Martinez, named 'World's Greatest Love Songs' as the next Glee assignment as Valentine's Day approached. It was the most disgusting and annoying display of love Kurt had ever seen, and he was already tired of it, and it had barely started. For exactly three weeks Kurt had to deal with the nightmare, and it _was_ a mess, every year. It was interesting. No matter how many times Mr. Schuester called these assignment 'weeks' they never actually ended up ending in seven days. Sometimes a good thing, but very often not so much.

In the space of the twenty-one days between Mr. Schuester assigning love songs and the actual celebration of Valentine's Day, which was to happen at BreadstiX, courtesy of Mr. Motta and available only to non-singles, there was absolute madness. Burt, Carole, and Leroy and Hiram Berry concocted a plan to con Rachel and Finn out of getting married (a good choice on their part) which would go down on Valentine's Day in the form of some huge family gathering which Kurt had opted out of. Mercedes, Sam, Quinn, and a new face at McKinley, Joe Hart, began sending Valentine's Day serenades, one of which Kurt had only a mild hope of receiving (Blaine didn't seem ready to change his mind at all). Artie and Rory had some epic war over wooing Sugar, which Rory won on account of the brutal news that he couldn't extend his student visa. Mike and Tina were ridiculously cute, Finn sent Rachel a serenade, and Santana made a big stink about sending one to Brittany, despite the more religious roots of the serenaders. Something also happened between Mercedes and Sam which involved the song _I Will Always Love You_, something Mercedes refused to disclose, even to him and Rachel. To cap off the shit storm that was those three weeks in late January and early February, Whitney Houston died, three days before Valentine's Day. Kurt thought that the world couldn't possibly get any worse.

And then Valentine's Day came. Sugar invited everyone to the Sugar Shack (she even gave him an invite out of sympathy, he assumed), and Rachel and Finn declined due to their plans with Burt, Carole, and the Berrys. No one expected the announcement at the end of the day that all students who valued their lives would report to the pep rally that the Cheerios were holding last period. Kurt's heart clenched. The last thing he needed on Valentine's Day was to see his ex-boyfriend singing his heart out. Blaine was _radiant_ whenever he performed, and it just made Kurt miss him all the more.

So when Blaine came out on stage, Kurt was... surprised, to say the least. He was lugging an acoustic guitar, he had no back-up, and he was wearing street clothes, but not just any street clothes. He was wearing tight-fitting jeans, a t-shirt, and a toque covering curly hair. He looked just like he had that Sunday in the park. Kurt bit his lip. What was going on?

"Hello, devoted citizens," Blaine said, a little bit sarcastically. "Today, I, with the help of the Cheerios, am supposed to be performing a mash-up of _A Thousand Years_ by Christina Perri and _It Will Rain_ by Bruno Mars, in honor of Valentine's Day. We stole the idea of a mash-up from the New Directions, which I am not supposed to admit, but it's true. Anyone with ears knows it's true." That got a few chuckles, but most people looked shocked and confused. Blaine had only said two sarcastic things in four sentences. That was unheard of by anyone but Kurt. "Today is a day that celebrates illegal marriages in the ancient Roman Empire, and is commonly thought of as a day to celebrate love. Oddly enough, the first application is the more appropriate one in my case. I've fallen in love with someone whom our small world dictates I shouldn't, and I don't even care. So, I want to dedicate this song to my... ex-boyfriend, I suppose, but hopefully not for long, Kurt Hummel."

Gasps followed that statement, everyone's eyes whipping to Kurt. A few people looked away when they saw the protective glares of the New Directions, but more people were looking at Kurt, sitting in the audience, than Blaine, sitting on a stool on the stage, guitar in hand, ridiculously lavish microphone (that was obviously part of the _original_ plan) in the stand in front of him.

Blaine began strumming gently on his guitar, his eyes searching over the audience until he found Kurt.

_There's nothing I could say to you  
__Nothing I could ever do to make you see  
__What you mean to me_

_All the pain, the tears I cried  
__Still you never said goodbye  
__And now I know  
__How far you'd go_

_I know I let you down  
__But it's not like that now  
__This time I'll never let you go_

_I will be  
__All that you want  
__And get myself together  
__'Cause you keep me from falling apart  
__All my life  
__I'll be with you forever  
__To get you through the day  
__And make everything okay_

_I thought that I had everything  
__I didn't know what life could bring  
__But now I see honestly_

Kurt had tears in his eyes, and most of the attention had slowly swiveled from him to Blaine. It was the _perfect _song, that said everything Blaine needed to (he assumed) and fit their odd, dramatic relationship better than he could have possibly imagined

He was even more surprised when the Cheerios walked up. Each of them was wearing a casual, knee-length, sweetheart neck, strapless black dress, completely out of uniform, singing background vocals. Santana winked and Brittany waved at Kurt. Blaine had been planning this...

_You're the one thing I got right  
__The only one I let inside  
__Now I can breathe  
__'Cause you're here with me_

_And since I let you down  
__I'll turn it all around  
__'Cause I will never let you go_

_I will be  
__All that you want  
__And get myself together  
__'Cause you keep me from falling apart  
__All my life  
__I'll be with you forever  
__To get you through the day  
__And make everything okay_

_'Cause without you, I can't sleep  
__I'm not ever gonna let you leave  
__You're all I got  
__You're all I want, yeah  
__And without you  
__I don't know what I'd do  
__I could never live a day without you  
__Here with me, do you see you're all I need?_

Kurt could tell by the slightly drawn out arrangement of the chords that Blaine had slowed down the song, twisting the words from pop song to sweet serenade, and that more than anything made his heart melt. Blaine had been plotting, possibly since the day Kurt had announced that he was in love with Blaine, to make Kurt swoon through the perfect song. Kurt was head-over-heels, but he knew they still needed to talk. His trepidation couldn't put a damper on his high, however, he was practically floating in his seat.

_And I will be  
__All that you want  
__And get myself together  
__'Cause you keep me from falling apart  
__All my life  
__I will be with you forever  
__To get you through the day  
__And make everything okay_

_I will be  
__All that you want  
__And get myself together  
__'Cause you keep me from falling apart  
__All my life  
__You know I'll be with you forever  
__To get you through the day  
__And make everything okay_

The last note hung in the air, Blaine having sung the last chorus completely solo, the Cheerios stepping away as he continued to sing. There was complete silence for about ten seconds, then the room burst out in applause, and the lights in the auditorium went out. Oddly enough, they didn't come back on. Coach Sylvester must have responded to Blaine's rebellion by shutting off the power (he obviously hadn't consulted her about this, which somehow made the whole thing even more romantic. He had faced down the devil to serenade Kurt, and outed them to the entire school in the process).

Kurt wasn't entirely surprised to see Blaine leaning against his locker once he had walked back from the assembly. He was giving cold stares to the people staring at him, but they didn't seem to be bothering him too much.

"Hi," Kurt said as he approached, keeping his distance for the time being.

"I love you," Blaine replied, taking one long stride to remove the distance between them and pulling Kurt close.

"I love you too," Kurt breathed, wrapping his arms around Blaine and reveling in the fact that they could do this so publicly without Blaine becoming nervous or shifty. It was wonderful.

"I know I have too much of a habit of shutting you out," Blaine continued, taking a step back so they could have a conversation without getting distracted by each other, "and I know I'm not very good at showing my emotions sometimes, I try, but..." Blaine shrugged. "You, Kurt Hummel, are the absolute _best_ thing that's ever happened to me, and I really hope you know that." Blaine stroked his cheek gently, his hazel eyes practically smoldering as they stared into Kurt's glasz ones.

"I..." Kurt tried to form words, but just smiled and shook his head. He had known how important Blaine was to him, he just hadn't known that Blaine felt the same way. "Thank you." Blaine's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "For the assembly. For singing to me. For..." 'outing us' was going to be the rest of his sentence, but Blaine shook his head.

"Trust me, that was possibly the most selfish thing I've ever done," Blaine said, chuckling ruefully. "I _need_ you, Kurt, more than I ever thought I would need anyone, and I couldn't handle the idea of not being with you for one more second. I only took so long because big romantic gestures require planning, and I knew that whatever my gesture was, it would have to be something that would get through to you."

"It did," Kurt said with a smile, and Blaine's smile in return was dizzyingly beautiful.

"There's more," Blaine said, and Kurt raised an eyebrow. What else could Blaine possibly have plotted? "I talked to Mr. Schuester this morning, and I am officially a member of the New Directions, as of today." Kurt couldn't even pretend he wasn't shocked.

"Blaine, are you sure? This is... social suicide, for lack of a better term, and with everything that's going on-"

"I want to be with you every second that I can," Blaine replied, cutting off Kurt's concern. "And I don't care what people think, what they do. I know I have you, and the Cheerios, and the New Directions, and the Hudson-Hummels, and... I'll be fine, Kurt. You were right." Kurt raised an eyebrow. "This isn't Beechcroft. This is a whole new world for me, and I need to embrace it."

"As long as you don't break out into Disney," Kurt said, but it was too late.

"_A whole new world! A new fantastic point of view!_" Blaine belted out, making Kurt laugh and everyone else in the hallway stare. "_No one to tell us no, or where to go, or say we're only dreaming_." The look on Blaine's face was so imploring, Kurt knew what he had to do next.

"_A whole new world!_" Kurt sang in reply, softer than Blaine had, but still audible, making Blaine grin and quite a few people roll their eyes. _"A dazzling place I never knew! But when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear, that now I'm in a whole new world with you_." Blaine was laughing, ignoring everyone who was looking at them. "There's never a normal moment with us, is there?" Kurt asked, and he couldn't have summed up the relationship better.

"There is never nothing going on. There are no ordinary moments," Blaine said with a smile, and Kurt groaned.

"Why is everyone quoting Peaceful Warrior at me lately?" Blaine's answer was a kiss, the first kiss they had shared in over a month, and Kurt melted into it, not caring about his question anymore. "Wow," he murmured when Blaine pulled away, and Blaine grinned.

"And now there's one thing left to do," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt's hand and tugging. "Hey, Israel!" Blaine yelled out, attracting the attention of the tiny, creepy reporter.

"Blaine Anderson, perfect. Now, what possessed you to go against the decision of Sue Sylvester and perform-"

"Shut up you miserable varmint," Blaine said with a roll of his eyes, and Kurt didn't object. Jacob Ben Israel was one of the few people in the school who actually deserved such rancor. "I have the perfect picture for your stupid blog." Kurt opened his mouth to ask what it was at the same time as Ben Israel pulled his camera out, and that gave Blaine the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into Kurt's mouth as he gave him a very _dirty_ kiss right in the middle of the hallway. Kurt tried not to moan as he wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, hearing the click of a camera and not caring. "Got it?" Blaine asked Ben Israel once they had separated with a ridiculously gross sound. Ben Israel nodded, looking confused. "Good. That's exactly what I want as the headline article tomorrow morning. Happy Valentine's Day." Blaine took Kurt's hand, and they walked out of the school together.

* * *

Blaine and Kurt had dinner, where they walked through their plan for making sure Blaine didn't freak out again and have to perform another serenade to win Kurt back. Now that Kurt was in the proper frame of mind, he was a little bit angry with the way Blaine had treated him, and Blaine spent all night lavishing him in compliments (and kisses) as apologies. Kurt couldn't stay mad.

"I have one more surprise for you," Blaine announced as they left the restaurant. It was an expensive restaurant, but Blaine had finally convinced Kurt that money didn't matter, and it was in Fort Shawnee, but Kurt knew that wasn't because Blaine was hiding them away from the world. There just weren't very many nice restaurants in Lima.

"Oh?" Kurt asked, having been surprised enough for one day.

"Yes, but we have to drive there."

"As long as it's not another expensive coat... or a whole store full of them," Kurt teased, making Blaine laugh.

"You can't deny that it looks good on you." Ohio was finally warming up a little, so Kurt had the opportunity to wear his new caban jacket. It was the first time it had been out of his closet, and so it was very fitting that he got to wear it on his 'first' date with Blaine.

"It does, but no more coats!" Kurt demanded as Blaine opened the passenger side door for him.

"I promise," Blaine said, sealing the deal with a kiss. "Get in."

Kurt wasn't entirely surprised when they drove to BreadstiX. It was the place to be that night, after all. What he _was_ surprised by was the light up signs declaring it the 'Sugar Shack' and catching the end of the God Squad serenading Brittany on Santana's behalf.

_You don't know how many times I've wished that I had told you  
__(Cherish the thought)  
__You don't know how many times I've wished that I could hold you  
__(Cherish the thought)  
__You don't know how many times I've wished that I could  
__Mold you into someone who could  
__Cherish me as much as I cherish you  
__Cherish the thought, Oooh_

They also didn't expect to be followed in shortly by Rachel and Finn, who were bright and happy. Finn gave Blaine a fist bump and then offered the same to Kurt, who insisted on a hug. Rachel hugged both of them excitedly, scaring Blaine a little.

"Jesus! Holla!" Sugar said, and who had given her the mic? Speaking of microphones, someone handed one to Blaine with a wink, for which Blaine thanked him. Rachel, Finn, and Kurt all stared at him curiously. "Okay, everyone. It's time for my extra special guest, brand new Gleek, scary Cheerio, and cute as ever! Blaine Anderson!" Everyone cheered as the spotlight turned to Blaine, who had an arm wrapped around Kurt.

"Happy Valentine's Day everybody," Blaine said with a smile. "This song is dedicated to all the _lovers _in the room." He gave Kurt a quick kiss as the music started, prompting more cheers. "_If you see a faded sign at the side of the road that says fifteen miles to the..._"

Mercedes joined in, Brittany, Rachel, and Sugar running up to join her (even the stage was set up. Blaine certainly was sneaky), Kurt taking a seat next to Santana with a smile. For all that she hated Blaine, Santana gave him a kiss on the cheek and a 'congrats'. Kurt was handed a microphone by the same mysterious person as the first chorus ended, Blaine dancing over to offer him the mic. Kurt shook his head, pulling out his own and making Blaine raise an eyebrow.

"_Sign says 'stay away fools,' 'cause love rules, at the love shack_," Kurt sang, joining in on the number and having fun dancing with his boyfriend. He could forget all about the stress of Regionals and his heartbreak over their break-up. He was with Blaine, and everything was all right again. He didn't even care how Blaine had managed this. By the end of his verse, there was no one sitting down, everyone dancing and laughing, enjoying their time together, and it was perfect.

Blaine was leading Puck's sorority girls in a conga line, and everyone was dancing, even the waiters, with their delicately balanced trays of Valentine-themed cupcakes. As they entered into the last portion of the song, Blaine dragged Kurt onto the stage, heart-shaped balloons falling down around them. The spotlight turned towards them just as Blaine grabbed Kurt in a kiss, the room completely dominated by love.

"I love you," Blaine whispered as they parted.

"I love you too."

* * *

**A/N: Awwww! This story is DONE! Whoooo! I hope you guys all enjoyed :)**

**Songs used/mentioned:  
**'Hey You' by Shakira (mentioned)  
'Bambeleo/Hero' by Gipsy Kings/Enrique Iglesias in the style of Glee (mentioned)  
'Finally Found You' by Enrique Iglesias feat. Sammy Adams (mentioned)  
'I Will Always Love You' by Whitney Houston (mentioned)  
'A Thousand Years' by Christina Perri (mentioned)  
'It Will Rain' by Bruno Mars (mentioned)  
'I Will Be' by Avril Lavigne  
'A Whole New World' from Disney's Aladdin  
'Cherish/Cherish' by Madonna/The Association in the style of Glee  
'Love Shack' by the B-52s


End file.
